Unexpected Romance
by DetectiveMarlowe
Summary: Claire Watson was on her last leg when she got a job with her cousin's friend Sherlock Holmes. What she didn't expect was to begin to change her feelings towards love. Proofed by KCS.
1. Chapter 1

The Secretive Secretary

From my earliest recollections, I thought that my friend Holmes would forever be indifferent to women and always scoff at affection of

any form around him. It seems to me now that once again, I was dumbfounded and proven wrong in the one thing I believed to be a

fact. It began in the early spring of 1895; Holmes believed that there were no longer any more extravagant cases to wriggle his fancy.

"I swear Watson, since the affair of the Blue Carbuncle there has been no trace of criminal activity. Am I doomed to live out my

prime giving advice to the police and any young upstarts?" he asked rhetorically.

I sigh as I read the paper "Well, my old friend I can't say anything but you're pertinence for catching criminals must have frightened a

good portion of them off." I replied trying to lift his spirits. Holmes stared at me for a moment then gave a short burst of laughter

"Watson, you never fail to amuse me at such times of boredom." He said as he sat back down in his favorite chair. Seeing Holmes in

a state of agitation was normal, and I hoped he wouldn't turn to his cocaine use again, as he did such when his mind seemed to get

away from him. The empty silence that filled the room was soon stopped at that precise moment. Holmes shot out of that chair like a

tiger pouncing on its prey, and opened the door to reveal Mrs. Hudson standing like a statue with a card in her hand. "Dr. Watson

there's a lady to see you about an advertisement you posted." She said blandly, handing the card to me.

I remembered the advertisement and turned to Mrs. Hudson "Send her up please." I said trying to contain my excitement. Holmes

knew something was up right away, and proceeded to deduct what he could. "Watson, is it possible you are thinking of interviewing

an employee for your practice in my sitting room?" He asked looking at me for any sign I might give. "My dear fellow, if it was for my

practice I would have done it in my own home." I said quite smoothly. Sherlock was about to ask me another question when she

came in through the wooden doorway. The woman was tall, dressed in a simple but elegant light blue dress. Her dark hair, and

darker blue eyes seemed to give her a bit of mystery, and her beauty seemed to overflow onto me until Holmes brought me back with

"Please sit Ms..?" He said trying to be a gentleman. The woman took her seat and then replied "My name is Claire Watson; I'm your

good doctor's cousin."


	2. Chapter 2

The Interview

Watson's face fell in astonishment.

"Claire? Is that really you?" he gasped, looking at the young woman before him.

Claire turned her face towards him.

"Yes, John it is I. I know you would not expect to see me here of the places in England, but here I am," she said with a small sigh.

Holmes directed his attention away from the flabbergasted Watson to his apparent cousin.

"Now, Miss Watson, you will kindly tell me why the advertisement called for you to meet here."

Claire held up her gloved hand.

"I have the advertisement with me, hold on a moment and I shall get it for you," she said calmly, searching through her handbag. "Here you go, Mr. Holmes."

Claire passed him the newspaper clipping without a second glance at it.

Holmes glanced at it and then glared at Watson with the full force of his hardened grey eyes.

"Watson! You scoundrel! How dare you put in the paper that I need an assistant?" He raised his voice enough to make it quite clear that Watson had crossed the line this time.

"Holmes, I'm a married man now, I can't come with you on every case. And although you've shown that you can take care of yourself, I see no harm in getting a little extra help." Watson flustered, trying to avoid the penetrating gaze he was getting.

"What do you expect her to do? She's a _woman_, Watson! She cannot go off running with me to catch a criminal or something of the sort without me having to think twice because she might get hurt."

Holmes's tone had returned to normal volume by then but it was still very angry. Claire stayed remarkably silent for a moment and then rose.

"It looks as if there will not be any compromises, so I will leave you two gentlemen to your busy schedule. I am sorry, Mr. Holmes, for taking up too much of your obviously precious time," She said stiffly, as if a little taken back from Holmes's outburst

Watson stopped her.

"Claire, please stay - the least I can do for your trouble is to give you an interview," he said calmly motioning her to sit back down.

Claire conceded and sat back down her light blue eyes focusing on her cousin instead of his estranged partner.

"May I write all this down?" Watson asked before producing a pencil and his trusty log book.

"You may write all you like, John." Claire said, taking off her broad hat to reveal her dark brown hair twisted into a bun.

Holmes turned his back on the pair to light his clay pipe. He did not like women, and especially if Watson tried to bring them into his life.

"How long have you lived in London, Claire?" asked Watson, thinking it would be short term.

Claire's eyes twinkled at the thought. "I've been in this city for 7 exciting and interesting years," she said, laughing when Watson gave her an awe-struck look.

"What have you been doing that's been keeping you from writing me?"

Claire shook her head.

"Well, my mother never told me you moved to London in the first place and my work was keeping me incredibly busy."

Watson smoothed his mustache as he wrote. "Where have you worked in London?" he asked, again assuming it would something like nursing or maid work.

"I was at first a Typewriter for Scotland Yard for 1 year then I got tired of doing all the office work and none of the field work; so I became an undercover operative for 5 years." She stopped there because both Watson and Holmes were looking at her as if she has sprung another arm.

"An undercover operative for Scotland Yard? Claire, are you pulling my leg to look better in front of Mr. Holmes?"

Claire's eyes grew cold "Of all the people in the world, John, I expected you to think better of me." She was starting to get severely annoyed by such an intense reaction form the men in front of her.

Holmes stepped in front of Watson and just stared into Claire's face with what one could assume as curiosity.

"Would you please take off your gloves, Miss Watson?" he asked, kneeling down before her. Claire sighed as she took off her matching gloves and laid out her hands before him.

The room was silent accept for the ticking of the clock and the occasional puff from Holmes's pipe.

"Watson, she's telling the truth. A woman who has no less then five different calluses from having to shoot a fire arm or using a weapon is none other than a spy."

Claire looked down at Holmes. "Well, I'm glad someone acknowledges my services, although it was two years ago since I last used a gun." She rubbed her hands together.

Watson was utterly speechless and continued to stare at Claire. Holmes took over the interview from that point on, because he had the stones to ask her the tough questions.

"So, for the past two years you've been playing the violin somewhere, and since your indentations on your fingers of your left hand are deep it must have been for a theatre."

Claire responded with a small smile. "You have it exactly, Mr. Holmes; I was at the Crown Theatre for two years."

Watson's eyes lit up "The Crown? I've been a few times but I never realized you were in the orchestra."

Claire refocused onto Watson "Well, I'm not surprised, dear cousin, with your new marriage, working in your practice, and following around Mr. Holmes - you are a very busy man." She said to him in a forgiving tone.

Watson nodded in agreement. "Which is why I put the advertisement in, I have barely any time to go off every case you get, Holmes. Claire has shown us that she has experience in your line of work, and she seems able enough to stand up to whatever comes with running after you."

Holmes shook his head deprecatingly.

"My dear Watson, Miss Watson may have the requirements to the job; it all depends on whether or not I'll actually give it to her."

His words stung Watson's newfound pride in his cousin "Holmes, what reasons could you give not to hire her?"

Holmes glanced at Claire again, then responded in usual cold tone.

"Besides the fact that she's a woman, Miss Watson seems to me paranoid, hard-hearted, and used to working with others instead of on her own."

Watson was about to protest this when Claire rose up suddenly and faced Sherlock Holmes. "Mr. Holmes, I can guess to how you got your correct deductions but they aren't good enough reasons in my mind to turn me away." Her voice had turned from melodious to stern and wooden.

Holmes turned away from her in one swift motion. "Do you have explanations for these behaviors?"

Claire's eyes flashed dangerously at his back "I do, Mr. Holmes, but I do not think it would be wise to tell you them if in the end it would still turn out that I am not going to get hired. So, to avoid any more confusion I'm going to leave you two fine gentlemen and be on my way."

And with that Claire picked up her hat and shut the door behind her softly before heading back outside.

"Holmes, now look what you've done! She is never going to speak to me again for putting her through this!" Watson said, taking his coat and dashing for the door.

Sherlock turned from the door. "What _I've_ done? You were the one who gave out the advertisement in the first place. Also, I will not have any assistant of mine treat me the way she did just then."

Watson looked at him with annoyance.

"Well anyone could have the same reaction after your outburst about her sex and your continuing negativity." Watson was riling up his already shaken nerves as he headed for the door. "I'm off to see if I can undo any damage that has been caused by a friend's concern for another."

Holmes leaped out of the chair after him "I'm coming along, if you feel like you have to make amends then I must go since I'm the apparent cause of the problem."

Watson shook his head. "She won't let me in if you come along. I promise to take notes."

Holmes took a hold of his friend's shoulder. "I'll go, and observe her once more and to give her another chance to redeem herself; but if she fails, then you stop trying to make me feel guilty."

Watson sighed and conceded before heading towards the brandy bottle for some much needed refreshment.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Miss Watson**_

Sherlock Holmes watched the unchanging front of the cab as it rattled past a small book seller's shop and a few newspaper lads trying to make a shilling or two. Finally the cab halted in front of some imposing brick buildings and as Holmes climbed out and paid the cabbie, he thought he saw a figure of a woman watching from a window.

Looking at the piece of paper in his hand, he strode up to Number 19 and knocked on the door promptly. After a moment, the door opened to reveal a stocky woman with graying red hair.

"Yes, how may I help you, good sir?"

Holmes tipped his hat at her.

"Good afternoon, I'm here to see Miss Watson."

The older woman's eyes brightened in recognition.

"Miss Watson, of course. Please come in."

Holmes entered into a front room containing a delicate oak table on which a small vase full of fresh cut roses stood. As he examined them, the old woman returned.

"Miss Watson will see you now; please follow me."

Holmes nodded his thanks and followed her to the door on the right side of the sitting room. The woman opened it to reveal a study of sorts with Claire sitting at a desk looking at a letter.

"Here's the gentleman, Miss Watson," the housekeeper said with a small nod towards Holmes.

Claire looked up briefly. "Thank you, Helen, that will be all." Her tone was unsurprised at the reappearance of Holmes.

The housekeeper closed the door behind her as Holmes took off his hat and gloves.

"Miss Watson, I have come here to apologize for my ungentlemanly conduct to you this afternoon," he said, looking at the woman before him with a blank expression on his face.

Claire gestured to a chair in front of her desk.

"Do sit down, Mr. Holmes. I know my cousin was a key part in making you come here to apologize and I shall honor it by allowing you to remain here for a length of time." Claire replied, looking at the hat upon her desk.

Holmes's glance moved from bored to annoyed in a flash.

"You do not believe that my apology is sincere, Miss Watson?" he asked, extremely ruffled by the fact that she saw through him.

Claire Watson's eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Mr. Holmes, you are not the type of man who associates himself with the affairs of women. You clearly showed your disposition towards my sex this afternoon - therefore, I must say that John made you feel guilty and made you come here." Her answer seemed very commonplace and regular, as if she expected Holmes to act like this.

Holmes was taken back by her deduction.

"Miss Watson, I do not feel guilty about what happened earlier; I am surprised by your deductions. You thought you would acquire a job by working for me?"

Claire shook her head.

"Mr. Holmes, under normal circumstances I would not come to you for employment. But, as of late I have been in dire need for an occupation that shows some respect."

Holmes looked at Claire with wonder.

"Respect? Have you any notion of how ridiculous that sounds?"

Claire's eyes came close to flashing in anger at Holmes.

"Mr. Holmes, in all seven years I have been in this city, I have worked and gotten nothing but a nod and few 'good job's for my efforts. No one in the force or the government recognized my spy work as anything but as a daring act of rebellion against society."

Holmes began to realize the reason behind Claire's aggressiveness; she was tired of doing all the work no one else could do and getting none of the credit for it.

"So, you thought if you worked with someone with similar training, you would get the respect you deserved," Holmes calculated while looking absently at her bookshelves.

Claire nodded.

"Yes, exactly, Mr. Holmes. I know you take no credit for your cases - but for me, just being able to be a part of solving them would help considerably."

Holmes looked at Claire, his grey eyes softening more than they normally did.

"Well, Miss Watson, it seems that I have gathered all the information I need to reconsider your offer except for one thing." He held up a finger to represent the idea. "Your spy work, is there any current officer who could strengthen your value as a spy?"

Claire thought for a moment before answering. "Ask Inspector Lestrade; he is the one who promoted me to spy in the first place," she said with a nod.

Holmes nodded in return.

"Thank you for the information, Miss Watson. I should have an answer for you by early tomorrow morning."

And with that, Sherlock Holmes gathered his hat and gloves and left the room at a steady pace.


	4. Chapter 4

_**The Fog is Lifted**_

Holmes and Watson sat in the sitting room of 221 B Baker Street, waiting for the door to open and Inspector Lestrade to appear. Watson had only been told by Holmes that Claire had let him in and told him if he wanted any more information he would have to ask Lestrade.

Holmes sat comfortably in his favorite chair, puffing away at his cherrywood pipe, which indicated that he was in a meditative mood. Watson on the other hand, rubbed his hands together happily before eating supper that Mrs. Hudson had so happily provided.

The door opened just as the clock struck eight, and in stepped the grey figure of Inspector Lestrade.

"Good evening, Inspector, please sit down."

Holmes rose to give a hearty handshake to Lestrade, who seemed miffed at having to come to Baker Street and did not return the greeting with much enthusiasm.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, how can I help you? I cannot give you any cases, if that is what you're after," he added, trying to figure out Holmes's rationale.

Holmes indicated to Watson that he should gather up his writing materials and looked back at the Yarder.

"Lestrade, I did not ask you to come here to talk about current cases; I want to ask you about Miss Claire Watson."

Lestrade's expression changed from anxious to bitterly exasperated in one fell swoop

"Not her, please ask me anything you like except about Claire Watson! That woman has done nothing but trouble me since the moment I met her." he growled reaching for the nearest alcoholic beverage he could find. Holmes and Watson exchanged surprised glances, but Holmes continued nonetheless.

"Why is Miss Watson so troubling?"

Lestrade shook his head

"Well, I take it that you've met the girl, otherwise you wouldn't be asking about her. Is she a client?" he asked wondering how Claire got herself mixed up with Holmes.

Watson answered before Holmes could find a good answer.

"She is a potential assistant for Holmes, Lestrade. She would not tell us very much about her work with you, saying that you would inform us of everything we needed to know."

Lestrade laughed dryly, "Claire Watson - an assistant, of all things? I never thought I'd see the day where she'd bite the bullet and work an honest job."

Holmes rubbed his chin reflexively as he took in each response.

"So, what exactly did she do for you as a spy, Lestrade?"

The little official seemed to shrink into the leather sofa, as if hoping to blend in with the furniture.

"I am rather ashamed to say it, but I used her to go into the docks, embassies, and other places I couldn't go without being recognized."

Watson's mouth dropped considerably. Holmes didn't seem too surprised and only nodded.

"So, Miss Watson was used to do everything no respectable member of Scotland Yard would do."

Lestrade nodded in agreement.

"She was amazing at disguising her appearance and speech, so we used her to infiltrate brothels, gangs, even shops to catch criminals."

Watson rubbed his mustache absent-mindedly as he asked Lestrade, "Can you explain why she has paranoia?"

Holmes raised his eyebrows in agreement.

"She doesn't usually display her paranoia, mind you, but it just seems like she expects to see someone watching her on a street corner."

Lestrade's eyes softened as he tried to explain.

"I'm afraid that is my doing, because about 3 years ago I assigned Claire to a major gang with the leader called "The Professor."

Watson scribbled down the information quickly as Lestrade took a sip of brandy.

"At first she didn't seem keen on it because all of our other operatives failed at getting any information before abandoning it all together."

He took a deep breath as if taking a plunge into the sea and then went on hurriedly.

"I promised her that she would get recognition from the Crown along with a mention in the newspaper if she brought this man and his gang to justice. "

Holmes sighed. "She told me the reason she quit the spy business was because she never got this recognition."

The inspector looked at his brandy glass in shame.

"Well, it all has to do with this gang job I sprung on her. She also had another spy named Alexander Farnsworth who was supposed to collaborate with her and help gather the information."

Watson made a mental note to check the index for the name because it sounded familiar in his mind.

"For the first year they were undercover everything went smoothly; they gave us good information and gave the gang bad information."

Lestrade looked into the fire place with a depressed sigh.

"But it didn't last, within the next six months things began to go bad. First Claire was getting advances from this professor and she wasn't enjoying any bit of it. Then the worst thing imaginable happened. Farnsworth defected to the gang and exposed the operation that he was trying to accomplish."

Watson was overcome with anxiety as Lestrade sat there steadily drinking his brandy.

"After _that_ kind of scare, you can imagine how much of a mess we had at the Yard," Lestrade mused taking off his hat. "Claire quit not long after, because she knew that it would only be so long before Alexander gave her real identity to the professor."

Lestrade hung his head in shame.

"She was one of my best spies, but she left because she was afraid that the gang would continue to try and find her."

Holmes sat back in his chair.

"She's paranoid, because she thinks this gang is still after her? That sounds almost too convenient ."

Lestrade looked back up at Holmes with hard grey eyes.

"Well, we only managed to arrest a few of the gang; the bulk of the operation plus the professor is still out there committing large crimes."

Holmes and Watson both then realized at that very moment why Claire had come to them. She had wanted a job to keep away from the gang and if it were known she was the assistant to none other than the famous Mr. Sherlock Holmes, then the gang might back off.

Holmes stood and craned over the Inspector.

"Thank you for the information, Lestrade, but before you go can you answer me one last question?"

The tired and weary man nodded.

"Why was Alexander Farnsworth chosen as her partner?"

The Scotland Yarder stood and put his hat on.

"We thought that with his experience, he could keep Claire in line."

Holmes opened the door for the busy man and then shut it with a push.

Watson stared at his journal as if watching for the letters come to life.

"How could someone live through such treachery?" he gasped, thinking of how it must have destroyed Claire's faith in the workings of British law and government.

Holmes sat back at his desk.

"Well, we can always ask her tomorrow," he said placidly.

Watson gave a start. "You are giving her the job?"

Sherlock nodded.

"With all this new information, it could be a far worse thing not to have your cousin work for me."

Watson could have hugged Holmes, but he seemed happy enough to content himself with shaking his friend's hand happily.

"Thank you Holmes, for giving her a second chance."

Holmes looked at his friend with a sly smirk.

"Well, it is not every day you can have a lady spy at your disposal."

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Author's Note: This chapter took a bit longer because I wanted to reintroduce Claire's paranioa but subtley and in a way that's understandable. Major thanks to my reviewers and to my editor KCS! Without her help this fic wouldn't be as readable. 


	5. Chapter 5

_**The First Day**_

The clock chimed eight as Watson was just about to eat a piece of toast in the room of his friend Sherlock Holmes.

Normally, the Doctor would enjoy his morning with his wife Mary before heading out, but today was his cousin Claire's first day on the job of assisting the incomparable Holmes. His lanky companion seemed to act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but Watson could see a sudden stiffness in his features that suggested otherwise.

Soon, the doctor grew tired of reading the paper and turned to his friend.

"What time is Claire supposed to be here, Holmes? It is a few minutes past eight," he commented, hoping to fill the anxiety he was feeling.

Holmes looked briefly at his pocket watch before answering.

"I sent her a wire late last night, asking her to come at half-past eight, so she still has time to get here."

Watson nodded in approval but then realized that he never laid down specific tasks for Claire to do.

"What will you have Claire do, Holmes?"

The detective smirked in response before lighting his first pipe of the day.

"I shall have her organize the index, old fellow; it has become absolutely shabby with how many times we have mistreated it over the years."

He pointed to the overflowing volumes on the bookshelves.

Watson groaned, thinking Claire would have a fit when she had to update the index of all the names in England. His mind began to wander as he looked outside at the bustling streets below him, wondering what she was up to.

Claire checked her appearance in her compact mirror one last time, hoping she wasn't overdressed. Her dress was the same one she wore the first day she met the Professor, consisting of a lace blouse with a long black skirt. Alexander had said she looked like a school teacher in it but she thought it looked professional.

The cab rattled down the Baker Street until it jerked to a stop in front of 221. She paid the cabbie and marched up those stairs, hoping that she was on time. Mrs. Hudson almost fainted to see her climbing the stairs and opened the door wide.

"Mr. Holmes, Miss Watson is here," the woman announced while gathering up Claire's hat.

Claire stepped into the room to see her cousin and Mr. Holmes looking at the door. Watson stood up to greet his cousin with a small hug.

"Great to see you made it, Claire."

Claire broke into a nervous smile "Is it that surprising I made it, John?" she asked him before giving a simple nod towards Holmes.

Watson gave a start by Claire's response to his gesture of affection.

"Well, after learning about your condition, Claire, I thought you wouldn't be able to come here without some sense of trepidation."

It was Claire's turn to get agitated while Holmes watched the pair of them argue.

"My _condition,_ John? Why do you have to make it sound worse then it actually is?" she asked him while trying to move forward.

Watson tried to repair the damage to Claire's personality.

"Well, when Inspector Lestrade told us about how you got paranoid, he made it sound as if you were held down by it."

Claire was about to tear apart Lestrade's quote when Holmes finally stepped in.

"Doctor, Miss Watson was here yesterday and yet you noticed none of the symptoms of her paranoia."

Claire was flabbergasted at the detective's defending her, but she went on.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I am only frightened when I'm in an unfamiliar place or somewhere where I know the gang could be," she explained, her temper lessening.

Watson wrung his hands, realizing what an insensitive man he had been.

"I'm truly sorry, Claire, I only learned of your troubles last night and even then I was not prepared to acknowledge your view on them."

She turned to Watson and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It's quite all right, John, when most people think of paranoia they tend to think of the most extreme cases."

The mild young women then turned to Holmes with her hands clasped behind her.

"So, what do you have for me today, Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes pointed to the bookshelf while he drank a cup of tea.

"I need you to update my index, Miss Watson. If anyone of importance has died, please take out their entry." Claire nodded in understanding and headed to the first volume.

Watson sat back down and watched his cousin pick up the large index that even made him mad whenever he had to look into it. Claire began to look at names of significant people and make sure the information was still up-to-date by checking the newspapers lying across the room or asking Holmes for his opinion.

By and large, she was very quiet and worked diligently, crossing out names and giving the room some much needed activity. It was around noon when Holmes dropped a comment to Claire about her spy work.

"Miss Watson, I was wondering how you were able to infiltrate gangs that your comrades could not?"

Claire looked up from scratching out a tailor to lock eyes with the detective.

"That's quite a question, Mr. Holmes. It was because my fellow spies only looked at gangs as mad ruffians who stole and killed for pleasure. I on the other hand, knew that gangs were simply men who could have no other way to live."

Claire's answer bounced off the walls in the small room and shook Watson's neutral expression.

"So, instead of seeing them from a professional standpoint you saw them as just ordinary people with extreme circumstances?" he asked in awe of Claire's common sense. Claire nodded

"You have it exactly, the whole department of Scotland Yard has it completely wrong when they tell you how to deal with infiltration."

She shook her head as she began to go back to her task. Holmes and Watson watched her while she continued to work, unphased by their questions.

"Miss Watson, you seem a bit more eager to share information, why is that?" Holmes asked her, somewhat surprised - especially after her reaction to the last thing he asked her.

Claire Watson shrugged as she finally got into the C section of the index.

"Since you hired me, I feel compelled to answer you so that you have a better sense of my character Mr. Holmes."

Watson turned to see his friend's reaction of nodding in agreement with her. The doctor was taken aback at their pleasant manner to one another and decided to voice it.

"Holmes, how can you be getting along with Claire, of all people? You once said that you would rather be in France rather than work with a female."

Holmes laughed lightly at this remembrance of the past, "That is still my main belief, Watson; your cousin, like you and I, is singular but she alone cannot make up for fickleness of women."

Claire snorted at this statement, making Holmes give her a sharp look.

"Excuse me, Miss Watson, when did I give you the liberty to voice an opinion?"

The tall woman looked at his put off grey eyes and stated, "Well you compared me every other woman out there, Mr. Holmes, I find that a little unbecoming that's all."

Holmes was taken aback by her biting response and rose in annoyance to counter it.

"Miss Watson, I'm at the liberty to say what I will of your fairer sex because time and time again it has been proven that women are not ready for a man's world."

The blue eyes of Claire flashed against Holmes's grey ones as she spoke.

"And those are the words of a gentleman? You may be my employer, Mr. Holmes, but believe me when I say this, not all women are the same. You may think so since you have seen a good portion of them but even then it still does not give you the right to judge me."

Watson stepped in between the two warring minds to try and clear away the hostility.

"Look here you two, you're behaving like children. I won't have my own blood and my best friend at each other's throats every other minute!"

He raised his voice in order to register to them both how foolishly they were acting. Claire smoothed out her dress before looking back at Holmes.

"Forgive me, I was too rash; I am just thoroughly tired of having everyone say the same thing to me."

She looked at Holmes as if trying to study his features. Holmes, on the other hand cast a cold glance at Watson.

"Watson, do not expect me to treat your cousin differently simply because she has more intelligence than the average female. She is a woman all the same, and there is no way she can prove my indications wrong."

Claire shook her head as she went back to work, watching her cousin stand there trying to think up a counter-argument to Holmes.

"Give it up John, it is not worth it. Mr. Holmes is very set in his ways and I don't expect that there will be any drastic changes anytime soon."

Watson staggered into his chair, astounded by Claire's defense of the man who just criticized her whole sex. Holmes then did something that made Watson almost gasp; he looked at the young woman deeply in the eyes and said, "Thank you, Claire."

Miss Watson smiled a bit to herself and went back to crossing off names.

"Your are quite welcome, Sherlock."

From that moment, Watson could see the level of respect between them and could not believe how much had happened in less than one day. He sat back with his brandy, watching the pair of them interact and marveled at the sight.

Sherlock Holmes was getting along with a woman – and not just any woman; it was his own flesh and blood that had brought the detective to recognizing that women were not to be criticized lightly.

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Author's Note: I usually use classical music when I write to help my imagination. But for this chapter I focused on more contemporary music I drew major inspiration from the song "Maneater" By Nelly Furtado. Also major thanks from my new reviewers, I'm pleased you love Claire as much as I do. As for when she's meets Mycroft, that may be my next chapter :). 


	6. Chapter 6

_Authors Note: This by far is my longest chapter which is why it took me so long to write it. I choose three different POV's one is Watson, one is Claire, the other is third person. Please R&R!**

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_**Fate Comes Crashing In**_

At the time I write this, Claire has been working for Holmes for the better part of three years and has learned when to keep her tongue in check - when he is in one of his cocaine-induced moods or if he is badgering a client, for example.

I have long since dashed all hope in her changing Holmes's perception of the entirety of her sex, but still there is something about having her around that makes the rooms in 221b a little more charming and welcoming.

Claire is getting used to never being mentioned in my novels unless she gets hurt because the audience would think it scandalous if Sherlock Holmes's assistant outwitted him.

I have never seen my fair cousin's use of disguises and I had begun to doubt her expertise in the matter until she mentioned it a week ago. It was a cool and breezy June day, and Holmes was flipping through his letters.

"Miss Watson, does the name Mary Bellows mean anything to you?"

Claire looked up at him from the newspaper; the poor girl had gallantly decided to update the index and was pursuing every newspaper in the city.

"Perhaps, why. Is she a new client of yours Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes shook his head and turned to face me with a slight smirk on his face.

"I should say not, Miss Watson. Mary Bellows is in fact in this very room."

I gasped at this deduction, "Holmes, you're not telling me that you of all people..."

I was cut off by my sharp-witted friend.

"No, Watson, I have never played that woman, I was referring to your cousin," he said, pointing over to Claire who smiled in return.

"Well, well, you've found me after all. Yes, Mary was my old cover when I had to infiltrate the red scarf gang," she said with a nostalgic sigh. "But that was so long ago; did they finally run a missing persons advertisement?" she asked Holmes.

My loyal friend shook his head.

"Well, your cousin has never seen you in costume, but I have."

My mouth dropped with an audible pop at this.

"When did you see her in costume? Claire, did you know it was Holmes when he saw you?" I asked her frantically.

She was genuinely surprised, of course.

"I had no idea he saw me in my disguise, but how, Mr. Holmes?" she asked him through narrow eyes.

Holmes rubbed his chin thoughtfully before answering in a harbor-like dialect.

"I can't believe you don't remember yer old mate Roger, how could you forget my beautiful face?" he demanded of her.

Claire began to laugh until her shoulders began to shake as she laughed.

"You were Roger, my comrade at arms? I truly had no idea it was you, Mr. Holmes."

I was in complete confusion, which helped Claire's infectious laughter.

"Are either of you going to explain this to me?"

Just as Holmes opened his mouth, Mrs. Hudson came in with a letter. Holmes opened it in a hurry.

"Well here is the chance you have been waiting for Watson - you get to see Claire disguise herself in an hour or so."

Both Claire and I stood up in surprise.

"My brother Mycroft has just sent me a letter asking me to come to The Diogenes Club as soon as possible."

I had never heard a word uttered about Holmes's family and assumed he was an orphan - but the prospect of a living relative intrigued me. Claire was still confused, however.

"How would this make me wear a disguise?" she asked, pondering.

Holmes shook his head.

"The Diogenes Club is male only, and women are never permitted inside expect on special circumstances."

I heard a sigh from Claire.

"Well, it seems worthy enough. I shall return in forty-five minutes and then we can depart."

And with that Claire put on her hat and ran out the door to catch a cab back to her home. I sat there, wondering what she would come back as, but Holmes on the other hand just checked his reflection in the mirror.

"Holmes, how is it that you never mentioned you had a brother?" I finally gathered up the courage to ask him.

Holmes gave me a swift glance before putting on a fresh waistcoat. "It never occurred to me to tell you until I thought the information was useful to you."

I sighed and went back to my paper. "So, what does he do this brother of yours? Is he a detective like you or something else?" I questioned him while making sure to keep an eye on the door.

My flat-mate shook his head as he resumed his position behind the desk.

"Mycroft works for the government as an agent of some sort, but he does all his reasoning from an armchair; the man has no drive whatsoever," he exclaimed before lighting his pipe.

"So he shares your gift of observance and deduction," I said, making the local conclusion.

But I was shaken when Holmes looked at his magnifying glass.

"Mycroft has a better power of observation than I do, Watson," he responded quickly.

I was taken back by this sense of humility coming from Holmes, when Mrs. Hudson could be heard calling after someone, "You can't just go up there sir, Mr. Holmes doesn't just see anybody who comes in the door."

The door opened to reveal a smartly dressed young man with black trousers and a matching coat. The mustache was smaller than my own and the jaw seemed very chiseled from my view.

"It's quite alright, Mrs. Hudson - I was expecting this young man," Holmes bellowed out the door.

Mrs. Hudson closed the door with a humph and clomped out of sight. The young man took off his top hat to reveal a nice head of dark brown hair.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I perceive." said a low voice that reminded me of someone I could not quite place.

Holmes looked at the young man intriguingly from every angle.

"Well done, Miss Watson - one could hardly tell that you were a woman. Except for the shoes, these shoes are for a more well-off gentleman, next time I should suggest something more subtle."

My reaction was one of almost gasping.

"Claire is that really you?" I asked examining her in the seamless disguise she had put on.

Claire laughed her regular laugh which made her disguise look like a sham.

"Is it that hard to believe, John? Remember, I used to do these things for a living."

"But how..." I began, wanting to know how she did it.

"We don't have time for explanations, we must be off!" Holmes said loudly and as soon as we could the three of us were in a cab to the Diogenes Club.

Once we were inside, I began to observe Claire's movement, she walked so much like Holmes and I it was almost uncanny. After trekking up flights of stairs, we made it to a large study where a larger man had his back turned to us.

_**Claire's POV**_

As we stood there, I couldn't help but wonder about this elder Holmes, and if he was as masterful as Sherlock made him to be.

"So, why have you brought such a group to my office, Sherlock?"

My employer stayed silent and let the elder turn around to see us.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet Dr.Watson and this young lady, who I assume is Miss Watson, your other assistant," he said, looking at each of us.

I thought I heard Watson say something but I was too amazed that he saw through my disguise quicker then his younger brother.

"I suspect it was the shoes that led you to that conclusion, Mr. Holmes." I found myself saying as if I was back in training at Scotland Yard. Instantly I felt the temperature of the room get colder as all three men stared at me.

"Interesting input, but no; it was how your carried yourself, Miss Watson. When I heard you walk into the room I heard the steps of a lady, not a man." I tried to figure out how to deduce that when Sherlock thankfully cut in.

"My purpose of bringing Miss Watson was not for you to judge her disguise, brother, but she is my assistant and as such she is here about your case."

My mind was at ease for once although it still feels weird talking in my normal voice when I am in a male disguise.

"You are quite right, Sherlock; my apology, Miss Watson."

The brother inclined his head to me and I could not help responding to him.

"It is quite all right, Mr. Holmes; it was my idea to come here in disguise to avoid any inconveniences, so if anyone should be blamed it is I," I said, returning the bow.

Mr. Mycroft Holmes must have been flattered by my willingness to take the blame that he turned a most becoming rosy color. I had to bite my lip to keep from saying anything about it, and my cousin looked to be doing much of the same.

"Well, moving onwards, I have a gentleman who works across from me at Whitehall by the name of Mr. Melas." The elder brother introduced a middle-aged man who was a Greek interpreter. We all bowed, including me and were introduced.

"This is my brother Sherlock, his friend Dr. Watson, and his assistant who ironically is Dr. Watson's cousin," he said, pointing at the group of us.

I thanked the Lord above he did not mention my name or actual gender, and the meeting continued on until Sherlock told Mr. Melas that we would take the case and that we would have answer for him shortly.

I was glad to get back into my normal clothes; even with my experience with male costume I can't wear the special breast flattening corset for more than 2 hours without any breathing problems. Back at Mr. Holmes's flat we scoured the evening newspaper for any indications onto the whereabouts of our Greek captives.

My cousin didn't seem satisfied by my normal attitude towards Holmes's older brother and decided to bring him up.

"Claire, what did you think of Mycroft Holmes?"

I had to think about it for a moment and I could not help smiling a little when mentioning him.

"To be honest John, I thought he was quite the gentleman, and I was very gratified that he didn't reveal me to Mr. Melas."

_**Third-person POV**_

Both Holmes and Watson were surprised by this compliment of Mycroft.

"But weren't you disappointed that he saw through your disguise so quickly?" Watson asked, still stupefied.

Claire looked away from her cousin and focused instead on Holmes.

"Not really; since Mr. Holmes told us that his brother was far superior than he in observing people, I knew to expect him to deduce something very quickly," she said politely.

The assistant then saw something in the column of a newspaper.

"Mr. Holmes, you had better take a look at this," she said, throwing him the paper before grabbing her hat and getting ready to chase whoever had the information.

Sherlock slapped his hand on the paper with glee.

"She's right! Quickly Watson, we must be off!"

Soon the three of them were on their way to see a Mr. Davenport who revealed that the location of the house was in Beckenham. Claire volunteered to get Mycroft while Holmes and Watson wired for Inspector Gregson and Mr. Melas for assistance.

Claire sped along the cobblestone road towards the Diogenes Club, hoping to catch Mycroft before he left. She was breathless by the time she reached the door.

"Mr. Mycroft Holmes is needed immediately - his brother calls for him," she managed in one breath to say to the doorman.

After standing in the giant stone archway for a few minutes, Mycroft Holmes emerged with his walking stick, cloak and hat.

"Miss Watson, where is Sherlock?" he asked her hurriedly as she waved down a cab.

"He sent me to get you, Mr. Holmes, he and John went to get Inspector Gregson and Mr. Melas."

Mycroft looked at the unwavering woman as they stopped in front of Whitehall. Holmes, Watson and Gregson rushed over to their approaching cab.

"Mr. Melas has been taken by those two blackguards Latimer and Kemp to Beckenham!" Holmes shouted before hopping into the cab along with everyone else. Scrunched in the cab, the five of them hurried towards the house.

Just as everyone feared, the house had been abandoned; but upon further inspection they found Mr. Melas and Sophia's brother in a room being poisoned by sulphur. The brother was unfortunately dead, but thanks to Watson Mr. Melas was pulled out in time.

"They've gone and taken Sophia on the next train - if you hurry you might catch them!" he yelled at the group. Gregson offered to stay behind while the rest of the group raced to the nearest station to catch the criminals.

Claire was winded by the time they boarded the train.

"I forgot how much exercise it takes to run after fleeing criminals, I need to sit down," she said apologetically, sitting in the dining car at a table.

Mycroft sympathized with her, "I shall join you Miss Watson, I'm not the sort of person who can chase criminals for very long."

Claire was glad of the company and the pair of them soon began to talk of foreign affairs and how the French were trying to horn into the colonization in Africa.

"I'm glad I've found someone to talk about politics with; since your brother and John never talk about current affairs I always feel a bit awkward," she admitted to him while the two more athletic members ran around looking for Sophia and Kemp.

Mycroft shook his head.

"Sherlock never did like politics, he always said it didn't matter if a chimp was ruling England; just as long as his work is unobstructed by the government he continues on his ignorance of it."

Claire giggled lightly making Mycroft blush for the second time that day.

"That is your brother in a nutshell, Mr. Holmes, I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks that," she said quietly.

Soon the momentum of the train caused Mycroft Holmes to fall asleep and Claire kept a sharp eye out, but suddenly she thought she heard the sound of a man falling from the train.

Claire was about to join Mycroft in falling asleep when the man in front of them stood up and revealed himself to have dark glasses and a peculiar look about him. Claire knew at once that it had to be Latimer and nudged Mycroft. The larger man woke to see Latimer and got up in a hurry as to be in his way.

"I'm terribly sorry, let me move past you," he said apologetically to him, and then in one fell swoop disarmed him and gave the gun to Claire. Holding Mr. Latimer at gunpoint, Claire moved until she was in front of him, and Holmes and Watson soon came behind them with Sophia in tow.

"Here's your last witness, Mr. Holmes," Claire motioned to Latimer with hard cold eyes.

Once the train got back to the platform, Latimer and Sophia were taken away by the police headed by Gregson. Mycroft, Sherlock, Dr. Watson and Claire Watson shared a cab into the city and the first stop was to Mycroft's rooms.

"Good evening to you two gentlemen - Miss Watson, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance." Mycroft bowed his head in ducking out of the cab.

"As it was mine Mr. Holmes, I hope we should see you sometime in the near future," Claire called out after him.

Holmes and Watson chuckled as Mycroft tried to hide the redness spreading across his face as the cab pulled away.

"What did you two talk about while we were gone?" asked Watson, wondering what Mycroft and his cousin could have in common.

"We talked about politics and foreign affairs," Claire said with a knowing smile.

Sherlock snorted loudly.

"I knew he would take a liking to you, your fascination with the government along with the world around you makes you an ideal candidate for a possible friendship with him."

She looked at Holmes oddly, "Possible friendship? Am I to be congratulated for just keeping him company?"

Before Holmes could answer her, the cab pulled up to her own home.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, John, this is where I say goodnight. I shall see you in the morning." Claire said with handshakes to the pair of them before heading into her house.

The cab ride to Baker Street was silent except for the clopping of the horses' hooves. Watson turned to his friend.

"It seems to me your brother is far more interesting than you are to Claire," he said with a wink.

Holmes eyed his friend oddly.

"That's only because she has only just met him; once she knows him as I do she will realize what a waste of time he is."

Watson was taken aback.

"I disagree with you, Holmes, I say that she will become his friend."

Holmes took his hand.

"Very well, then the bet is on!"


	7. Chapter 7

_**The Flower Blooms**_

July 1888

Claire was finally done updating the index for the year.

It had taken her almost two months to finish it, but in the end Holmes had given her a bonus and told her she did a good job. Without the stress of trying to look up obscure names, Claire was put in charge of the mail and Holmes's schedule.

It was a particular hot and hostile day when a letter arrived for her. Watson was sitting in his usual spot on the sofa, glad to be out of the humid air. Holmes was investigating a few forgery cases and was busying himself with his chemistry set. The door opened with Mrs. Hudson holding a letter towards Claire, who took it with a nod of her head.

"If that's the police department tell them to have an ounce of patience once in a while!" Holmes exclaimed while trying to measure something.

Claire turned the envelope over and hid a smile.

"It's addressed to me, Mr. Holmes," she said casually before getting out her letter opener.

Watson smiled at this.

"See, Claire? You said no one would ever write to you."

Claire stifled laughter as she opened the letter, and her eyes began to brighten just a slight bit as she read it.

"Well, what does it say that made you look so happy, Miss Watson?" asked Holmes as he wrote a few notes down in his pad.

She looked up at him.

"Well, you will be surprised to see the author of it."

The woman rose and placed it before him on the table. Holmes's eye dilated for a moment before giving it back to her.

"So, my brother has asked for you? Do not flatter yourself, Miss Watson, he probably has something he wants to give to me but wants you to get it."

Claire shook her head as she looked around for her hat.

"Thank you for the confidence boost, Mr. Holmes, you always find a way to make my day," she said with a hint of sarcasm.

Watson hid a smile.

"I hope you have fun, Claire - I feel as if I am a witness to history."

Claire shot him a look.

"Very funny, John. I'm not the first woman Mycroft Holmes has called on, am I?"

She turned to Holmes, who was being embittered at the thought of her going.

"I think you'll be the first to be invited to the Diogenes Club, and for that - congratulations."

Claire snorted and leapt down the stairs to get into a cab as quickly as possible.

Watson chuckled to himself as he read the short letter Claire had left on her table.

_'Dear Miss Watson, _

_If it is not too much trouble for you, I would be honored if you came to the Diogenes Club half past eleven this morning. I shall look forward to your coming,_

_Sincerely,_

_Mycroft Holmes'_

Holmes merely shook his head as he returned to his chemicals that he was so comfortable with.

"Didn't I tell you Mycroft would be likely to write her soon?" Watson said, gleeful that he might be right for once.

His friend jotted down something with his right hand while examining some sort of blood.

"You were right about him writing her, but as for friendship I still see no foundations as of yet."

Watson merely shook his head and gazed into the distance, wondering what his cousin was up to.

Claire was trying to get the doorman to understand her and let her into the club's Stranger's Room.

"Look, I was called for by Mr. Mycroft Holmes to meet him a few minutes ago. Now if you don't believe me go ask him yourself!" she said trying to keep cool under the humid air.

The doorman looked at her skeptically.

"I'll go ask for him, but you better not move from that spot."

Claire nodded her thanks and continued to stand in the large archway fanning herself for ten minutes - until she got the idea to cross the street and wave at Mycroft where he could see her through his telescope.

Mycroft Holmes sat in his room at the Diogenes Club, glad that he had a fan to keep himself cool in this humid weather. He checked his pocket watch and saw that it was ten after eleven, and he went hurrying to the telescope to see if Miss Watson was nearby.

Just as he peered into the lens he saw her waving at him, trying to tell him to let her in. Moving as fast as he could for a large man, Mycroft ran into the doorman who turned her away.

"Please let the young woman in, Basil, she has an appointment."

The doorman nodded and set off to go allow Claire in.

Claire saw the doorman wave her over and crossed the street without too much trouble.

"Sorry for the delay, Miss, I was only doing my duty," he apologized to her before showing the girl into the Stranger's Room.

Claire took off her hat as she sat in a cushioned chair overlooking the street. While turning her head to get a better view, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in, please," she said pleasantly.

In walked Mycroft Holmes, looking a little overexerted but otherwise in the same shape Claire had seen him in last month.

"My apologies about the doorman, it passed my mind to tell him to expect you," he said while sitting across from her.

Claire shrugged her shoulders.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Holmes. I didn't mind waiting a few minutes," she said comfortingly.

Mycroft leaned forward as if he was telling her a terrible secret.

"Miss Watson, you must be wondering why I called you here, and the reason was that my brother informed me that you used to be a spy."

Claire settled into her chair, remembering seeing Holmes write a letter to Mycroft a few weeks ago.

"That is correct, Mr. Holmes; I worked for Scotland Yard for five years as a spy."

The larger man looked almost mystified at this strong woman sitting in front of him.

"You do realize what a rare profession for a young lady that is, how old are you exactly if you don't mind my asking?"

Claire smiled at him.

"This may surprise you but I'm twenty-seven years old, Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft shook his head mentally. Sherlock said she was gifted but this was impossible to comprehend. Spies were back-stabbing, lying, dirty and paranoid…or so he thought. Claire Watson seemed to be the exact opposite of her contemporaries, and he wanted not only to know more about her experiences, but her character fascinated him.

"Why are you so different from other former spies I've seen, Miss Watson?" he asked her, trying to read her character.

She looked at her hands before returning her gaze to his warm grey eyes.

"To be honest Mr. Holmes, I think my experience was a lot different from the male spies you've encountered. To begin with I never got mentioned if I completed an assignment; also, if I did something my superiors would never think of, all I got was a dirty look."

She shook her head as if thinking that it was something that shouldn't have happened

"I know I shouldn't complain about my work; I loved wearing my disguises and saving my country but after a while you can only take so much."

The lady sighed softly, looking off into the distance. Mycroft was intrigued.

"But didn't you expect this to happen?" he asked her bluntly.

Claire looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"To a certain point yes, Mr. Holmes, but once you get put in a brothel for undercover work I doubt that the same principle applies," she said as she tried not make her voice sound hard.

Mycroft saw a glimpse of anger in her eyes and decided it was best not to ask her too much.

"I'm curious, Mr. Holmes, as to why you are asking me these questions. Your brother interviewed me three months ago with the same questions. Why didn't he simply give you the notes he took?" she asked the portly man, annoyed that she had to keep repeating her resume.

Mycroft shook his head.

"Miss Watson, Sherlock did send me your answers but I felt that it would better if I got an updated point of view on your previous work."

The lady in a light green dress began to laugh loudly.

"My feelings have not changed, and they are very unlikely to do so. I loved my spy work but in the end I left to stay alive."

Her emphasis on "stay alive" made Mycroft's eyebrows furrow and come together in interest.

"How did you get in such a situation? Does this have to do with the Professor at all?" he asked her, earnestly glad to have such an interesting person at his disposal.

Claire's eyes flashed at him dangerously.

"I'm not an organism you can willingly study, Mr. Holmes. I think I've answered enough questions about my work to satisfy you," she said before standing up and leaving the room.

Mycroft Holmes ran after her and shouted to the doorman.

"Don't let her leave just yet, Basil!" he said while striding towards her.

Claire was mad that she had been a fool to think that Mycroft Holmes was interested in something besides her spy work.

"Miss Watson, please - Sherlock would tell me nothing about Professor James Moriarty."

Claire turned and faced him with a scraped bone look on her face.

"Never mention his full name in my presence again, or I will be forced to stay silent," she said with a serious tone before heading back in front of Mycroft.

"I will tell you the basic facts but no details yet since I have yet to trust you on those matters," she began as soon as they reentered the room. "I was put in an undercover position as the Professor's secretary with an accomplice by the name of Alexander."

She shook her head, not believing that she had to tell this account again.

"From the first moment I met him I despised him, but I never showed it until right before Alexander broke his cover."

She had never told her employer, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, this detailed account because she knew his reaction wouldn't be pleasant.

Mycroft watched Claire intently as she wiped her face with both of her hands before continuing, "He fell in love with me, I'm absolutely certain of that, how it happened I have no idea."

She looked at Mycroft who looked back at her, astonished.

"It was only a matter of time until I had to leave, and now I have to be careful of what I do since there's always the possibility that the Professor is looking for me."

Claire looked outside at the passing people as Mycroft smiled to himself, she wasn't as perfect as he had thought. But her paranoia was understandable since her enemy was still alive somewhere.

"Thank you, Miss Watson. I am sorry that I made you bring up such a painful subject," he said, trying to be a gentleman.

Claire looked at him with an arched eyebrow.

"It's quite all right, Mr. Holmes - it's just I've been telling this story too many times and after a while it sounds repetitive to my mind."

The sweating man was wishing he had his fan once more, Miss Watson was using this time wisely and he had to respect her for that.

"Miss. Watson, this may sound a bit forward but I was wondering if you would like to go with me to the café?" he asked her, trying to make up for the interview he had put her through.

The woman who had been putting him through more mind mazes than others smiled.

"I would be honored," she said quietly before standing a walking out of the club with Mycroft standing by her, looking like he was lucky to be seen with her.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Author's Note: _**This Cahpter took longer than I anticipated because I didn't want to rush the romance. Also, it was Spring Break and I needed a nice break from my overactive imagination. Please R&R!****

�

_**Opposites Sometimes Don't Attract**_

The complacent look on the waiter's face at the Royal Café was absolutely destroyed when Claire strode in with Mycroft Holmes looking like he was coming down with heatstroke beside her. 

"How may I help you Madame?" his voice squeaked at them, almost afraid of what the man would do. 

Mycroft drew out his handkerchief and wiped his beading forehead before answering. 

"My guest and I will have a table near the back, please," he said, trying to fit into whatever role this young man was thinking of. 

The waiter nodded in agreement and led them to a table near the kitchen which was nice and cool. Claire sat down with mixed feelings, not really sure why Mycroft brought her here instead of staying in the Diogenes Club. 

"Miss Watson, in continuation of your background - my brother told me you were in the Royal Theatre orchestra for two years after your job for the government?" he asked her, somewhat aware of her bare hands drumming on the table cloth. 

Claire nodded. 

"That is correct, Mr. Holmes. I was a second row violinist. I liked the work because I didn't have to really lie to people and the best part was there was no red tape to withhold me from doing what I felt like," she added with a ghost of a smile. 

The waiter reappeared as Mycroft took a long drink from his water glass. 

"What shall you have today, sir?" he asked Mycroft, eyeing the menu eagerly. 

Mycroft snorted, "I will have the turkey cutlet sandwich with more bacon and a side of fruit please." 

His eyes turned to Claire, who briefly looked at the menu, answering before the man could address her. 

"I will have the chicken salad sandwich with a side of melon please," she said politely before handing her menu to the man.

The waiter nodded his head hurriedly before setting off in the direction of the kitchen. 

"Why did you leave such a freedom-giving environment?" Mycroft asked, picking up where he had stopped. 

Claire shook her head. 

"Well, as much I as would love to say it didn't involve yet another man in my life I've come to abhor, it was," she said ruefully, going back to drumming her fingers on the table. 

Mycroft peered at her. Sherlock had been right - when you thought you had found everything of consequence to know about Claire Watson she threw you another twist. 

"Are you going into detail or are you going to just pretend I never asked you that question?" he asked her with a touch of rudeness. 

The lady sitting across from him only blinked, her face remaining like set concrete. 

"I think you've heard enough of my romantic intrigues to fill up a few books, Mr. Holmes. I'm saving this tidbit for our next encounter," she replied pleasantly as the food arrived. 

The food was very refreshing, and the pair ate in comfortable silence. As Claire was poking her melon with a fork, Mycroft looked at her as if he was in the presence of a maze rather than a woman. 

"Miss Watson, is there anything else I should need to know about you?" 

Claire looked up at him, her eyes moving from warm and friendly to silent and cold. 

"Yes, next time you see my employer do not tell him about my mention of the professor's true feeling towards me. If he knew about those he would be inclined to distrust me," she said before rising. This outing had been fun, but she had work to do.

Mycroft nodded in agreement. 

"Yes, Sherlock still retains his high degree of standards and I don't blame you for not telling him," the large man said in a neutral tone as he stood up to follow her out. 

As the pair walked to the front of the Diogenes Club, Claire couldn't help but feel like she was being examined by the grey eyes of Mycroft, and it reaffirmed her suspicions that he was just as cold and calculating as his brother. Mycroft turned to face her when they reached the entrance of his club of choice. 

"Thank you for divulging your information, Miss Watson, and for the company. Please give my regards to my brother and your cousin," he said with an informal bow. 

Claire retuned with a curtsy and a handshake. 

"The pleasure was mine, and Mr. Holmes I'll be sure to pass your greetings as soon as I get back to Baker Street." 

Mycroft smiled slightly before turning and disappearing behind the doors. Claire shrugged her shoulders as she waited for a cab. All in all she liked having lunch with Mr. Mycroft Holmes and giving him more information than his brother but there was something about him she didn't quite like. The cab ride was quiet and the view of apartment 221b seemed to have weathered her short absence with no change whatsoever. 

Mrs. Hudson was glad to see the nice young lady who had been in Mr. Holmes's employment for the past few years and to see her face was always a nice burst of fresh air. 

"Good afternoon, Miss Watson," she chirped as the young lady smiled and walked up the stairs towards Mr. Holmes's rooms. Claire opened the door stiffly and marched into the room with an air of normalcy. 

Watson looked from the clock to his cousin; she had only been gone an hour and a half and Claire seemed to act like it was a pleasant visit. 

"So, how is Mycroft doing, Claire?" he asked her after she sat back down and began sorting through the pile of mail. 

Claire looked up slightly. 

"He's dealing with the heat remarkably well for a man of his stature, and he took the time to try and be a gentleman towards me," she said as she opened a thank you letter from Holmes's last client. 

"Looks like the Brooks family is holding a luncheon in honor of your services, Mr. Holmes," she said to the thinner of the two Holmeses. 

Holmes shook his head impatiently. 

"It was nothing remarkable, just the simple case of the stable boy trying to impress the daughter of a wealthy man by stealing a painting from the study. Send them an acknowledgement of their gift but tell them I'm far too busy to travel out to Kent." 

Claire nodded as she began to write out the declination of the invitation. Watson wasn't going to let Claire's lunch with Mycroft pass him by and he was surprised that Holmes wasn't asking her anything yet. 

"So, what did Mycroft want from you, Claire?" he asked her while writing down Holmes's last case. 

His cousin snorted in response. 

"He wanted more information about my background with the Yard - apparently Mr. Holmes didn't tell him enough about me," she said sarcastically.

Holmes didn't stir from his position by the unlit fireplace. 

"So, my brother asked you more about Professor Moriarty? That is typical of him, wanting to find a weakness of former spies and see where it leads him." 

Claire's eyes flashed from her position at the desk. 

"Yes, in a matter of fact he did Mr. Holmes; as for my weakness, that comes from Moriarty since it leads to the conclusion that I have to live in fear of the vile man killing me when he gets the chance." Her voice had the wooden quality that warned Watson and Holmes that they were entering uncharted and dangerous waters.

Watson was surprised at Claire's ease in anger. 

"What else did Mycroft mention that has put you into such a foul mood?" he asked her, worried that Mycroft offended her at some point. 

Claire exhaled sharply. 

"It wasn't what he said it was how he said it, he made me feel like a fly being dissected." 

She shook her head as she finished the letter and prepared it for postage. 

"I don't like it when people examine me without my consent, and he just made me feel small and a bit irregular," Claire sighed as she turned to the next letter. 

Watson was confused, wondering what she meant by not liking it when Mycroft examined her. Holmes thankfully explained her answer. 

"Miss. Watson is saying because of my brother's very intense interview, she felt like he was looking at her as an example of women spies gone wrong. And she did not wish to be seen as only a former spy; Miss Watson wants to be seen as a whole, not just parts of her interesting career." 

Claire nodded in agreement. 

"You have it exactly, Mr. Holmes. When I first met your brother I thought he would be more perceptive to my situation, but now I think he just sees me as a typical former female spy who has been in too many entanglements," she said with another sigh. 

Watson seemed to understand. Poor Claire thought that for once she wouldn't be hassled by memories of the past but it seemed not to be. 

"If it's any consolation Claire, I think you are a singular individual whose past should be respected and dealt with accordingly," he said supportingly. 

Claire smiled slightly, "Thank you, John, but I don't need any more apologies at the present." Her tone was tired and more than willing to move on. "I did warn you, Miss. Watson that Mycroft may seem to be nicer to your kind but in reality he can be just as judgmental as I." The thin Holmes told her coldly. The young lady seemed to understand, "Yes, of course Mr. Holmes I had forgotten myself when I got that letter and came to the wrong deduction. But it won't happen again, I assure you." This time Claire's tone had gone from deflated to persuasive. Watson's confidence of Claire striking up a friendship with Mycroft Holmes was beginning to crumble and he began to worry that Holmes might be right after all. 


	9. Chapter 9

Curiosity never hurt anyone

_**Curiosity never hurt anyone**_

Claire couldn't get the thought of Mycroft Holmes out of her mind; it had been two days since their lunch and the scenario kept playing through her head like a river. The man had done what all the others had done before, but for some reason it had caught her off guard. 

She kicked her chair to express the depth of her lack of focus when going so willingly to see him only to get shoved underneath the microscope once more. Just the prospect of seeing him once more made her seem giddy and she hastily reminded herself that he was just like the others and he would only destroy her. 

As Claire tried to take deep breaths and think rationally about why her mind committed such an error, without thinking, her hands picked up her violin and began to play out a song by Paganini that reflected the conflict between her mind and her soul. Claire was always putting her emotions through something such as music or art, anything except talking about them or displaying them. An emotional woman was a hazard in the spy business and she learned to keep them in check. However, without the restrictions on her behavior, she was not sure how to act anymore. 

The door to her study was half open as well as the window; so any passerby could hear the dramatic music she was playing to get rid of her thoughts on Mycroft Holmes. She was about done with the first movement, when there came a short rap at her door. 

"Mrs. Garner, I told you if it was important to come in and notify me, otherwise you can tell the gentleman he shall have to wait," she shouted over her playing through the door. 

The landlady walked in with trepidation. 

"I know Miss Watson, but Mr. Holmes said it was most urgent." 

Claire kept playing and nodded her head. 

"Very well, send him in." 

She finished the movement as the man stepped into her presence. Claire opened her eyes to only shut them again for she thought she was seeing things, after blinking a few times Claire placed her violin on the desk. 

"Have a seat, Mr. Holmes," she said, trying to disguise the trepidation in her voice.

The Holmes facing her was not her employer but rather the brother she was trying to forget.

"Thank you, Miss Watson, but I shan't being staying long," his gravelly voice said with an undertone of politeness. "You are taken back by my sudden appearance in your home, but I will explain why I am here shortly." 

Claire sat down behind her desk. 

"Surprised is not the word I would use; troubled is to more my liking," she said, trying to fend off what her conscience was trying to tell her. 

The elder Holmes peered at her inquisitively, "I am not surprised by that, especially after I forced you through that interview." 

Claire narrowed her eyes at him at this backwards way of apologizing. 

"Did my employer or my cousin confront you about what happened between us, Mr. Holmes?" 

He gave a short laugh and shook his head. 

"Fortunately for us both, my brother has not tried to ask me what my purpose was for meeting you. Your cousin on the other hand did, and told me you seemed a bit shaken when he saw you return."

Claire tried to break away from that stare she was getting. 

"That was only because I was angry with myself for thinking that possibly someone would want hear something else besides my past," she said, standing and turning away from Mycroft. 

"It gets so annoying after telling it so many times and people judging you based on what you did in the past. I am done with Scotland Yard, and I have no desire to relive my glory days by telling every person I meet about them!" 

Claire's self-control on her mouth was far gone, and she had to stop herself from insulting Mycroft any further. 

With a deep breath, she turned her face sideways to look at Mr. Holmes to see his reaction, but to her surprise he was leaning forward in his chair as if entranced by her words. 

"Miss Watson, I had no idea you harbored this much anger about your past. It is very understandable - but unless you are frank with people they are going to ask." 

Claire nodded and sat back down. 

"The real reason I am here, Miss Watson, is to satisfy my curiosity about you. For a woman of your age and birth it seems that you have dared to cross the line of dignity and do what every other woman out there will not do - why is this so?" he asked her, preparing for a long speech.

Claire for the first time smiled at him and produced a light laugh making her earlier angrier persona shatter. 

"I was never one for society's restrictions, Mr. Holmes. I have seen what it did to friends and family alike. The more I saw of what my destiny was the more I wanted to rebel against it, and instead of internalizing this wish to be free I actually _did_ it." 

Claire's eyes softened for the first time, giving a glimpse of what she was like under all her armor. Mr. Holmes almost fell out of his chair, for sitting before him was a woman who defied any type of moral conformity of her sex and succeeded in doing so. 

"Would you change any of it, now after what has happened to you?" he asked her, prying at her layers trying to get to the core. 

Claire laughed once more. 

"The strange thing is, all my experiences have helped me shape how I am, and I would not change it for all the jewels in the royal vaults." 

This laughing, happy woman was a mystery to Mycroft, who unbeknownst to Claire did not really have another engagement elsewhere; he just wanted her to think that so she would tell him the facts. 

"It is my turn to ask you a question, Mr. Holmes," she said, stretching her fingers out and rolling them on her desk, "why did you tell me that you had another engagement? It is perfectly clear that you had nothing else to do besides apologise and ask me better questions." 

The portly man saw his ruse had been seen through and knew she was fast upon observing him. 

"I am obviously a very proud man, Miss Watson, and I did not want you to give me useless information so I made up the ruse that I would not be here long." 

Claire nodded. 

"I see, very diplomatic of you, Mr. Holmes. Since I have answered your questions, I wonder is there anything else you need of me?" she asked him nicely. 

Mycroft looked at this fine example of a lady and tried to find the right words, but Claire stopped him. 

"I think a nice walk around the parks would suit your health better, Mr. Holmes, just let me grab my hat and we can be off." 

Claire placed her medium-sized hat on with a tap before turning towards him. Mycroft was just happy she could interpret his mood, and let her go first before closing the door behind them. 

"You seem to be gifted for observation," he finally spoke as the pair walked on the pavement rhythmically. 

She raised her eyebrows at him. 

"Yes, thank you for observing my skill, Mr. Holmes. I learned it in the service mostly, but lately I've been getting more lessons from your brother." 

It was Mycroft's turn to raise his brow. 

"Does he do it intentionally?" he asked her as they entered the park. 

Claire snorted before laughing once more. 

"You know him more than I, and should make the conclusion that he does not. He tries to test my cousin Dr. Watson but in so doing has me looking for things as well." 

Mycroft chuckled lightly as the pair walked slowly to enjoy the scenery. They had been chatting for some time when Claire's eyes caught someone ahead of them in the park. 

"I say, isn't that your brother?" she asked him, pointing to a lanky man in his prime with a slightly less lean man walking beside him. 

"It can't be, Sherlock hates walking in the park unless they are on a case of some sort," he drawled trying to get a better look at them. 

Claire shook her head. 

"There aren't any that I know of, and we solved the last one a month ago." 

With that they quickened their pace to see what was occurring. Mycroft was out of breath by the time they were within twenty feet of the famous duo and had to rest. 

"Go on without me, and bring them back here." 

The woman accompanying him shook her head. 

"And let you disappear on me? I think not." 

Claire put her hand to the pavement, took a small pebble, and threw it over the heads of Holmes and Watson. Watson turned and saw to his shock and dismay his cousin standing there talking to Mycroft Holmes. 

"Holmes, take a look around, you won't believe this sight," he whispered to his lanky companion. 

"If it's a pair of lovers, I'm not interested," he drawled but looked anyway. 

Watson saw the look of absolute shock on his friend's face as Claire and Mycroft came closer. 

Upon reaching them, Claire exclaimed, "What are you two doing here? I didn't expect to see Mr. Holmes in the park anytime soon." 

Watson hugged her in greeting. 

"You took us by surprise as well. I needed the air and Holmes was bored enough to accompany me." 

He motioned to the lankier brother who was peering inquisitively at his brother.

"Mycroft, you raise my curiosity, last time you met with my assistant I was assuming that she would not see you again anytime soon. You must have made quite the apology; Miss Watson is not as forgiving to those who make her feel like a sideshow attraction." 

Mycroft stared down his brother with a withering gaze. 

"I did no such thing, and I only told her of my miscalculation and was granted some other answers to my questions." 

Claire stood in between them trying to make a peace. 

"Can we do this all without the glares? Mr. Holmes did apologize in a roundabout way; he seemed to be in need of some air; that is why I proposed to come out here," she said diplomatically.

Mycroft nodded in agreement. 

"I hope you gentlemen have a nice stroll, now if you excuse me I must redirect my attention to Miss Watson." 

He tipped his hat at the pair of them before whispering something into Claire's ear that made her nod and follow him quickly as she said goodbye to John. 

"What is going on, Holmes?" Watson asked him while they watched the pair in front of them talk as they walked briskly towards the street. 

His lanky companion turned towards him. 

"Exactly what I hoped would not happen, they are becoming friends and if I do not do something there could be serious consequences," he said sharply, heading back towards Baker Street. 

"Isn't that a good thing, Holmes? How can a friendship be bad?" Watson asked, confused at this grim outlook.

"My brother never makes a friend without a reason, and for your cousin I cannot possibly see one at all," he scowled at Claire's back. 

Watson struggled not to laugh at this. 

"Maybe he enjoys her company and thinks her expertise in the spy business could be useful," he told him delicately. 

Holmes on the other hand laughed sarcastically at this. 

"You are completely wrong about that; Miss Watson has shown repeatedly that she has no desire to relive her spy duties unless I ask her. As for her company, I would assume it is somewhat informative but otherwise very distant," he concluded as the pair crossed the street. 

"So, what do you think we should do, Holmes?" Watson asked him, wondering where they were headed. 

"Follow them of course, and see where the rabbit hole leads," Holmes pointed to Mycroft who was talking to Claire ahead of them on the sidewalk. 


	10. Chapter 10

The Rabbit Hole

_**The Rabbit Hole**_

Mycroft hurried Claire Watson on the sidewalk, wishing the people ahead of them were walking faster. Miss Watson was still in the dark, which was a good thing; he didn't want her to know until he needed her to.

"This way."

He pointed to his office in Whitehall where the government agents worked.

"Why are we going to that place? Is it a case for your brother, who is trying to be secretive by following us?" she yelled behind her, causing Watson to try and jump behind a bush in fright.

"Sherlock can't stand the thought of me conversing with you, Miss Watson, without some intent of using you," he explained to her as they ran across the street.

Claire wasn't surprised by Holmes's curiosity and how oddly his brother was behaving, but that didn't stop her from following a wheezing Mycroft into the bland building. Trying to be helpful, Claire let him catch his breath in the lobby before following him up the stairs to his office. With the door firmly closed, the portly man turned to her, his face streaked with sweat from so much exercise in one day.

"Miss Watson, the reason I pulled you away so hurriedly was that it came across my mind of a case that was entrusted to me concerning an old acquaintance of yours."

Claire sat down, visibly shaken, thinking it was the professor - or worse, Alexander.

The elder man read her appearance like a book.

"Don't beset yourself, Miss Watson, it has nothing to do with Professor Moriarty or his associates. It instead has to do with a man named William Gardner."

Claire's eyes narrowed in remembrance of that vile name, but before she could speak Watson and Holmes came through the door.

"Good to see you found your way, Sherlock; it's so nice of you to come," Mycroft said to an eye roll from Claire. "Doctor, sit down before you ask any questions, and the same with you, Sherlock. I shall explain my actions in due time."

The two men sat rather abashedly.

"This is a matter of social delicacy. William Gardner, the son of a cultural attaché is in trouble. He's supposed to be getting ready to marry a noble lady by the name of Gertrude Steward, but instead he's been kidnapped."

Claire scowled heavily at this statement.

"His father's only the cultural attaché of France, and his living shouldn't warrant such a thing to occur," Claire said before anyone else could reply.

Watson was surprised by this but he was starting to get used to Claire's foresight.

"How did you know that, Claire?" the good doctor asked her.

Claire tried to look at the window instead of anyone when she answered, "He was a former friend of mine, and I haven't spoken to him in some time," she said unapologetically.

"William Gardner was more than a friend; otherwise you would actually be looking into someone's eyes, Miss Watson," Holmes said statically.

Watson watched for a reaction but Clare's body refused to comply.

"So, Mr. Holmes, I assume the kidnappers wrote to you or did this Gertrude contact you?" she asked the portly Holmes, ignoring the question completely.

The elder Holmes watched his younger brother for a moment before answering.

"His fiancé did; she is supposed to come in to present the case in full to Sherlock."

He pointed to the open door with an open hand.

Claire sighed deflated already.

"It seems our doom to help the man - I suppose I can help with the case but no more questions about my relationship with William, I've had enough of it," she said professionally.

Holmes nodded in agreement.

"How diplomatic of you, Miss Watson I'm glad to see you have the strength to see the woman he had an affair with while he was courting you."

Watson's head turned instinctively to Claire's face, which had that marble look on it he found frightening.

"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Holmes, but I think you have said quite enough at the present," she said sharply to Holmes.

The detective seemed to agree and sat more at ease in his chair. Within a few minutes of celebrated silence the door creaked open to reveal a rather short lady with curly red hair and a lavish silk dress in the middle of July.

"Mr. Mycroft Holmes?" she asked in a low nasally voice.

The now comfortable Holmes stood up along with everyone else and welcomed her into the room.

"Please come in, Miss Steward, this is my brother Mr. Sherlock Holmes, his colleagues Dr. Watson and Miss Claire Watson."

Holmes and Watson bowed and Claire gave a small curtsy before returning to her seat. The noble lady returned the curtsy, and sat in the center of the room on Mycroft's small sofa.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Holmes, but I have no one else to turn to. William is the world to me and if anything should happen to him, I wouldn't know what to do."

Claire wished she could roll her eyes at this - as much as she hated William, this woman really loved him.

The detective leaned forward to observe her as usual.

"Give me the exact facts, Miss Steward, and I will do all in my power to find him."

Watson took out his trusty notebook, and Claire pushed her chair closer to Gertrude to get a better view of her.

"The last time I saw him was last Thursday afternoon, around four-o'clock. We were having tea in the sitting room in my house in Kent, when William got an urgent telegram calling him to London."

She blinked away tears. Claire couldn't help realizing why Holmes had such a narrow view of women, and most of them who he encountered were beside themselves or worse.

"William works for his father is the Cultural Affair's department here, and is often called away on urgent business so this was very commonplace."

She continued, not aware of the eight eyes observing her closely.

"I went about my day as normal, knowing that he would be back in time for supper which was at eight, so when he didn't appear I was taken aback. I rang his office to see if he was there or had left already and they told me that he never came in and that they didn't send for him."

At this Gertrude burst into tears. Holmes merely blinked quickly as Claire offered her a handkerchief.

"Now, Miss Steward, when did you file that he was missing?"

The crying woman shook her head, "I didn't go to the police because I was afraid that the kidnappers would kill him, I told his father Robert, who mentioned you, Mr. Holmes, and thought you could help me. I contacted Mr. Holmes two days ago about this matter and he arranged the meeting for today."

Claire leaned forward in her chair.

"Have the kidnappers been in touch with you at all?" she asked her quietly, making the woman blink in confusion.

"No, not at all - I've heard nothing so far," she said trying to decide whom to pay attention to.

Holmes snapped his fingers in thought.

"You will keep us informed once they do, Miss Steward?" he asked her, rising.

Gertrude was beside herself in joy, "Thank you for taking my case Mr. Holmes, of course I'll send you anything once I get it."

She curtsied a final time before departing.

As soon as the door was closed, Holmes turned to Claire, who was deep in thought.

"Miss Watson what did I tell you about asking clients questions?" he hissed at her.

Claire's head snapped up in recognition of hearing her name.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, but it seemed to me that you weren't going to ask that question so I thought I should for clarification."

Her response was businesslike as usual and she then returned to her pondering. Holmes wouldn't let this breach of etiquette go.

"Miss Watson, how did you gather that I was done with my questions?" he asked her, appalled.

Claire looked at him briefly before clicking her tongue in annoyance.

"There was the matter of your tone, and I misjudged it as ending instead of your merely catching your breath."

Her observance stunned Watson yet again into further silence.

Holmes looked at her with narrowed eyes, "Miss Watson, you are clearly still emotional about this William Gardner and it won't do anything but hinder our progress."

The lady stood up and walked until she was face to face with him, clearly angry with him.

"Don't assume, Mr. Holmes, that I am emotional over something I have spent enough of my time on, I am over William and I think its time for us to go."

Her tone had gone from wooden to stern in a flash. With that she stood up straight and glanced over at Mycroft, who was observing her.

"I did enjoy our walk, Mr. Holmes - I'm sorry that it had to end so soon," she said, trying to cover up the shame she felt because Holmes had exposed her anger at William.

"The pleasure was entirely mine, Miss Watson, and I wish you luck on the case."

He shook her hand quietly and with a small smile. Claire half-smiled back and with a second glance to Watson she walked out of the room and started walking down the hallway. Mycroft stopped Holmes before he could get out the door.

"Sherlock, you are going to have to be careful with this case; Miss Watson has stronger attachment then I previously thought."

His brother snorted, "She won't do anything too rash, brother of mine - as for her pervious romance, as she told us so bluntly Miss Watson has moved on from it and you should do the same."

His brother wrinkled his brow at his younger sibling.

"What are you getting at, Sherlock?" he asked him, wondering what he was thinking.

"You are paying particular attention to my assistant, Miss Watson, Mycroft; and I cannot help but wonder why you doing so."

Mycroft turned his grey eyes to his brother's and stared at him, "Unlike you, Sherlock, I find her company interesting and her background keeps me guessing on how she sees things."

He turned from him, facing the large window.

Holmes couldn't take this change of his brother's personality.

"You've never done this before, and how do you expect me to take this budding friendship?" he said to the larger man's back, unaware that Claire and Watson were listening to their conversation.

Mycroft slammed his hand on his desk.

"I expect you to stop acting like a child, Sherlock! People change, you have to realize that - not everyone can keep the same personality throughout his lifetime," he said sternly. "Before I met your assistant, I was a recluse, who delighted in observing others and working for the government."

Holmes looked at his brother with curious eyes, seeing this new man he wasn't sure he knew.

"What are you _now_, Mycroft? Just because some woman has come in your life, you are willing to throw away all that you hold dear?"

The elder shook his head.

"You know as well as I, Miss Claire Watson is not just some woman. You may not admit it but she intrigues you, because Claire does what you said what was impossible for her sex."

The silence between them was daunting, and the sound of their strained breathing was the only thing that could be heard. On the other side of the door, Claire slid to the floor, smiling to herself; she had found friendship with the brother of the man who doubted her skill. Watson looked at his cousin's satisfied smile.

"Aren't you surprised by any of this, Claire?"

She turned to him, her eyes shining from the sunlight.

"The only thing that surprised me is that Mr. Holmes used my first name. As for Sherlock, he has always held women as an inferior sex."

Claire's voice seemed to drift through the door she was sitting against into the door where the thinner Holmes was pacing about.


	11. Chapter 11

_**The Armor Regenerates**_

Holmes opened the door, to see Claire sitting right next to it with Watson standing across from her smoking a cigar.

"Miss Watson, that conversation was none of your business to eavesdrop on! I can't have my assistant behaving rudely in public places!" he said in his usual stern voice whenever Claire did something wrong.

The lady only sighed as she rose, "I wasn't eavesdropping, and the whole floor could hear your opinion of me and your brother's friendship."

Claire's face was still in that marble appearance, which made Holmes furious because it was hard for him to tell what her emotional state was.

Watson stood by his friend.

"Are you ready to leave, Holmes? It seems we will not get any further just standing around in Whitehall," he grumbled, trying to get things moving along.

The thinner man tore his attention away from the granite-like appearance of Claire.

"Yes, of course, thank you Watson."

He inclined his head towards the doctor before the three of them set off for Baker Street. The cab ride was eerily quiet, and Watson for one couldn't take it any longer.

"Claire, what do you know about Lady Gertrude?"

His cousin glanced at him before answering in a bored tone.

"She is the daughter of Sir Edward Steward, that woman hasn't seen anything that wasn't gilded in gold from the moment she was born. But, although she comes from a lot of wealth, Lady Gertrude spends it mostly on charity work for orphans and doesn't flaunt her money like other ladies of her class."

Holmes rolled his eyes at this.

"Anything _useful_ you could tell us, Miss Watson? Such as her enemies or others who would wish her ill?"

The young lady snorted, "Lady Gertrude has no enemies at the moment; her father does, however, so we may have to pay him a visit. His enemies are mostly political; none of them would be as rash as to kidnap his daughter's fiancé in the middle of the night."

Watson nodded in agreement, "It just seems odd to me that the young man was kidnapped instead of the lady."

Holmes smirked at this, "Perhaps there is a gang of women out there who take rich young men as hostages."

Claire laughed sarcastically at this.

"If there were, I would know about it. All-women gangs are very rare. Even if they do exist, women gangs aren't that skilled to kidnap a man off a train."

The two men looked at her, surprised that she didn't think a woman did the kidnapping.

"Whoever did this kidnapping must have access to the stationery in Whitehall. Because Lady Steward told us that William got a note from the office."

Holmes put his hands together in thought.

"True, so this William fellow must have done something to anger a fellow employee, but _who,_ is the question."

The three continued to silently ponder as the cab rolled to a stop and they ambled into the flat.

Once he had sat down on his favorite chair, Holmes finally spoke.

"My brother was kind enough to give me a list of William Gardner's fellow workers during our private chat."

He opened up a piece of paper written in Mycroft's messy handwriting. Claire and Watson looked the names over, trying to see if any of the names were recognizable. At once, three fingers pointed to the name Jim Ellis.

"That name is familiar. Watson, the index!"

Holmes pointed to the newly updated books in his messy bookcase. Watson thumbed through it until he reached a few pages dedicated to this man.

"Jim Ellis, arrested in 1884 for extortion and kidnapping, escaped from prison two years ago and has been working as a janitor at Whitehall. Two weeks ago a policeman on watch near the docks thought he saw a man who looked like Ellis and he was carrying a large sack. It was upon that investigation that he was revealed as working there."

Holmes pointed to the index as soon as Watson's mouth had closed. With daring speed, the detective gave a small whoop.

"The police officer who saw Ellis was Sgt. Fredrick Brown. Come, Watsons, we have no time to lose!"

Claire and John raced after him, leaping into a cab and heading towards where Claire lived. Holmes was rubbing his hands, excited at the thrill of the hunt once again; Claire seemed too preoccupied with familiarizing herself with the layout of the area. The cab came to a sudden halt, jarring everyone from their mindset and Holmes told the cab to wait as they approached a small townhouse.

The man who greeted them was a heavyset man with dark brown hair and a bushy mustache that made Watson's look tiny.

"How may I help you?" his voice boomed like a loud tuba.

"I am Sherlock Holmes, this is my chronicler Dr. Watson, and my assistant Miss Claire Watson."

The two men bowed their heads, and Claire made a small curtsy before the Sergeant let them inside.

"How can I help you, Mr. Holmes?" he asked, leading them into a small parlor.

"I need to ask you about Jim Ellis, I'm doing a case about a kidnapping and I have reason to believe that he was the kidnapper," Holmes said coldly.

The Sergeant nodded his head.

"It was two weeks ago, I was on my regular route near the old marketplace when my eyes caught sight of a short man with curly black hair, carrying a large rucksack, and heading towards the docks. I came to question him, sir, and I tell you he was a shifty fellow, always looking behind him and such. He said he was carrying some potatoes home from a store and that I had no right to question him so late."

Holmes nodded while pacing about the small room.

"What time was it when you questioned Ellis?"

The big man shrugged, "It was half past ten when I checked my watch right after he pushed past me."

Watson wrote down every word, as Claire watched the Sergeant for any indication to see if he was lying.

Holmes leaned forward, almost touching the Sergeant's nose with his own.

"Why didn't you arrest Ellis?"

The large man shirked back, try to get out of range of the cold eyes before him.

"He wasn't causing any trouble and he even showed me a potato from the sack, I didn't know who he was until later when the station chief mentioned someone matching his description."

Holmes turned away from him and headed towards the door.

"Thank you, Sergeant Brown, you have been a great help to us."

Watson and Claire hurried after him and boarded the cab in silence.

"Well, what do you make of it Watson?" the calculating man asked his foremost helper.

Watson shook his head, "It's beyond me how Ellis could dare to get a job with Whitehall with his background - as for the sergeant, he made a common mistake."

Claire rolled her eyes at this.

"Mr. Brown wasn't lying when he told us of what happened at the docks. What worries me is that Ellis is probably employed under a false name."

The thin detective suppressed a look of surprise on his face and nodded glumly.

"You may be right, Miss Watson. I'll have Mycroft send me his work name and see if he was working when Mr. Gardner was kidnapped."

The cab stopped and the threesome hurried up to the study to sit and plan things out.

Watson consulted his notes, "I think we would get a better start if we question Miss Stewart's father, see if anyone could have helped Ellis get a new identity and orchestrate the kidnapping. Also, we need to wait and see if Miss Stewart writes us within the next day or so."

Holmes nodded, lighting his pipe hurriedly.

"I don't think asking the girl's father will be necessary; remember it was her fiancé that was kidnapped and from what Miss Watson told us it was a match orchestrated on both ends. I think we had better pay Basil Gardner a visit."

The thin man turned to Claire, who was sitting on the couch beside Watson.

"Miss Watson, since you have a history with this man's son I strongly discourage you from going to see him with us. I recommend that you instead stay here just in case Miss Stewart contacts us, and you will also be getting the file from my brother and your new friend Mycroft."

His hazel eyes flashed at hers when he mentioned her budding friendship.

Claire looked at him with indifferent eyes.

"Mr. Holmes, you are right to ask me to stay here, and if I came it would not be pleasant. I will stay but I expect you both to write me about the new developments. Mr. Holmes, you don't like this sudden change of your brother associating with me and it is understandable for you to feel this way. But I must stress the point that not everyone can live their lives the same way you have. Change is inevitable, and the sooner you realize that the sooner you will accept my friendship with your brother."

She took a deep breath and looked at her employer, well aware that this friendship could cost her job. Watson looked from the pair of them, watching for some indication of what was to come.

Holmes turned away from Claire's unwavering gaze, and faced the window.

"Miss Watson, I appreciate your insight in this affair, but it is in your best interest to keep out of my personality and its inner workings. As for your friendship with my brother, I only see him getting unsatisfied with your company and going back to his regular habits."

Watson cleared away the china, afraid that his cousin would throw something at his good friend, but to his surprise Claire just sat there like a marble statue.

"Claire, aren't you going to defend yourself and the concept of change that you are talking about?"

His cousin turned her face towards his.

"John, it is impossible to predict what Mr. Holmes's brother is going to do, but he may be right. I am just going to enjoy the friendship while it lasts."

Holmes seemed to agree with her and turned his attention back to Watson.

"We will leave tomorrow to Mr. Gardner's estate. Until then I suggest you both leave me to thinking out this case."

Holmes turned from them and sat in his favorite chair and gazed deeply into the empty fireplace. Watson went to his notes of the case so far and began to write it out in his romantic styling. Claire looked at her pocket watch - it read ten till seven. She sighed and then rose to take the dishes from lunch to Mrs. Hudson.

After returning up the stairs, Claire bent her mouth down to Watson's ear.

"I'm going to go home now, John. Have a good night, and I should see you tomorrow before you leave for Pemberley."

Watson followed her down the stairs, still curious about the dialogue between her and Holmes.

"I will keep an eye on Holmes, and tell you if he mentions anything to me. Claire, don't feel like your friendship is going to end with Mycroft. Holmes, as you observed, is very set in his ways and when something changes it he can act like a child."

Claire suppressed a laugh.

"Thank you, John, but I'm fine really; your friend may be correct in his prediction, though. Mr. Mycroft Holmes is pleasant towards me, I just keep getting the feeling that he wants to know all my secrets and once I've told him everything he may not want to see me."

She shook her head as if dismissing the thought.

John waved her off, waiting until she got into a cab and drove away. He watched the street for a moment before going slowly back to his position on the couch; Holmes was still sitting in his meditative pose not even noticing that his assistant had gone.

The doctor shook his head, returning to writing down the adventure that he was sure would reveal more than Holmes intended.

* * *

AN: Thank you to every one of my reviewers! This Fic is becoming a lot more popular than I thought. As for the romance between mycroft and claire i'm trying to show it gradually. Please R&R!


	12. Chapter 12

_**Unending Maze**_

Claire Watson rushed towards 221B Baker Street with a small carpetbag in tow, risking getting run over by the cabs as she reached the door.

Mrs. Hudson let her in, and the young lady climbed up those 17 steps that the fans of her cousin's friend liked to discuss so much. Whisking off her cumbersome hat, Claire went inside to her employers sitting room.

Watson was standing near the end table, collecting the sandwiches Mrs. Hudson had so cheerily provided.

"Good morning, Claire, nice to see you are up bright and early to see us off."

Holmes reappeared in his country clothes with a cigarette sticking out of his firm mouth.

"Remember, Miss Watson, be patient for an answer from Miss Stewart. Please telegraph the Willow Top Inn where we are staying if anything occurs. And when my brother comes to call please refrain from doing anything scandalous."

His last point made Claire snort, and she handed him his briefcase which he snatched with a huff. Watson hugged his cousin goodbye.

"I'll write to you as soon as we meet Mr. Gardner. Don't fret, Claire, this case should be solved in no time."

Claire smiled slightly. "I hope so, don't forget to enjoy yourself a little bit out in Kent, the fresh air will do you some good!"

The doctor tipped his hat and followed Holmes who was already outside trying to get a cab to the station. Mrs. Hudson watched the carriage take off and then turned to the nice young lady.

"Will you be staying here until Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson come back?" she asked inquiringly.

Claire nodded. "If it's no trouble, John said I could use his room for my stay."

The elderly woman nodded as she set about clearing the breakfast table and preparing the doctor's room. Claire sat behind the paper-covered desk, tapping her fingers on the polished surface; Mycroft Holmes was supposed to call today with Ellis's work name and such. She could only hope that Lestrade didn't catch wind of the kidnapping and come sniffing around Baker Street for information.

Glancing in the mirror, the brunette couldn't help but remember Holmes's harsh words, "_It's only a matter of time before he tires of the friendship and goes back to his regular habits_."

Silently, she shook it off, for of course Holmes was right in deducing this point - she and his brother had only known one another for a short amount of time. There were only so many more things she could tell Mycroft without feeling self-conscious about her past, and once she had run out of the twists in the maze of her past he could very well tire of her and break off their friendship.

Claire was so wrapped up in her analysis of what Holmes had said that she failed to notice Mrs. Hudson standing in front of her.

"Miss Watson, Mr. Mycroft Holmes is here, should I tell him to wait?"

The young lady's eyes blinked sharply before answering.

"No, of course let him in, Mrs. Hudson."

The elder lady nodded and backed to show the large man in and take his hat.

Claire braced herself for Mycroft to tell her about what he thought about what she had said, but instead he sat down in front of her and placed a folder on the desk.

"It's just as I feared, Jim Ellis had a dual identity. His false name was John Haydon and from what the porters told me he had been in the telegraph office that afternoon. To think such a thing would happen in Whitehall!" he exclaimed, blaming himself for the lack of security.

He looked through the files, thumbing through until he had received a picture inscribed _John Haydon_ and found something odd with it.

"This cannot be the same man, the police sergeant Mr. Holmes interviewed swore that the man he saw had brown hair, this clearly shows his hair is some light colour," Claire stated.

He turned over the picture while pointing out the differences between that picture and the most recent prison photograph.

Mycroft leaned forward and took both photos to compare them side by side.

"You are right, Miss Watson, these two men have almost nothing in common except for the nose - but it is a fairly common trait. This must mean the real John Haydon was in Whitehall and Jim Ellis stole his identity."

Claire shook her head and appeared behind him, and pointed out with her thin hand.

"Your eyes aren't as good as you say they are; look closer - this is the same man but with different hair. Jim Ellis was notorious for disguises and this blond dye could have been easily done for the photo, and then once his job was done he could disappear."

She pointed the features out with her forefinger, and this display dazzled Mycroft Holmes who without thinking brushed her hand while going back over the areas she pointed out.

The pair remained frozen, then Claire's hand had dropped to dangle by her waist, but the rest of her body was turned to Mycroft who was silently damning himself for doing such a scandalous thing.

Luckily, Mrs. Hudson appeared with tea and scones which forced the pair to pretend nothing had taken place. Mrs. Hudson bowed her head before leaving them to sit the uncomfortable silence that they had created. Mycroft, feeling guilty, decided to speak first.

"So, it seems that you are correct, Miss Watson, taking your insight to these photographs contradict my earlier hypothesis."

Claire nodded in agreement, focused intently on the folder Mycroft had given her earlier.

"Quite so, Mr. Holmes, I thank you for this history of Ellis/Smiley - it should help our case greatly," she said calmly, trying to move on from that moment and Mycroft seemed to be willing to do so.

The elder Holmes harrumphed in agreement and took a glance at his trusty pocket-watch while keeping one grey eye set on Miss Watson for any notion that she might give him.

"Well, Miss Watson, since I've done my duty I see no reason to keep you from working."

He started to rise out of the cane chair when she gestured for him to sit back down.

"Please stay, Mr. Holmes, you would be a great help to me by figuring why Ellis, of all the criminals, would kidnap Mr. Gardner," she said, bringing her fingers into a triangle shape like his brother had always done.

The round man almost felt obliged to stay and resettled himself in the chair with a cup of tea.

"As it says in those files, Ellis is the only one with access to Whitehall who could have done it. As for other reasons, it could be money or perhaps he had a disagreement with Mr. Gardner's father."

Claire nodded as she looked out the window wondering what her cousin and employer were up to.

Watson stirred uncomfortably in the train carriage as rolling hills went past his gaze; he couldn't help but wonder what his cousin was up to. His sister was less than enlightening about why Claire had gone to London; she and her daughter hadn't been in contact since Claire started her spy work.

"Watson, you have nothing to fear, Miss Watson is perfectly capable looking after the house and the remainders of this case," Holmes said thickly, peering at the empty seat next to his good friend.

"I'm not afraid, Holmes, it is just that it gets so hard to tell what my cousin is thinking these days. I fear she is going back into her protective shell that we found her in three years ago."

He shook his head as yet another farmland sped past.

"Miss Watson is covering up her emotions because she doesn't want me to reveal her true feelings for a certain person," Holmes said darkly as if hinting towards the person in question

Watson stared at his friend.

"What do you mean, Holmes?" he asked, thinking it was about the case and how it dealt with Claire's former lover.

"My brother has somehow ensnared your cousin into thinking that they have future together. If I know my brother he'll try and find a way to wrestle out of it, he always does."

He snorted and smirked at the utter shock in Watson's face.

"Don't pretend to care about your cousin, Watson, it does you little good to meddle in others' affairs."

Watson shut his mouth and glared at Holmes reproachfully.

"I, unlike you, care about what my cousin is doing and if she heading towards yet another heartbreak then I must do something!" he said, turning his attention back to the landscape before them.

"I apologize, my friend, but I was only testing you to see how much you believed in the relationship between my brother and your cousin."

Watson shook his head, "I'm not sure that I follow, Holmes."

Holmes gave out a short laugh.

"You said that your cousin was destined for heartbreak after hearing my opinion, which means that I win the bet you set almost six months ago!" he said gleefully, holding out his gloved hand for payment.

Watson shook his finger at his friend.

"You twisted my words, Holmes! You think they are romantically inclined towards one another, I think otherwise."

Holmes nodded at his friend's opinion as the train came to its first stop.

"Perhaps I have taken the recent happenings at Whitehall a little too seriously. My brother is too proud to ever admit he'd ever go out of his way to be a friend to a lady," he said, lighting a cigarette as the train began to move again.


	13. Chapter 13

_**The Less Traveled Path**_

Claire Watson was tired; she had been talking with Mycroft Holmes for the past two hours non-stop about the kidnapping of Mr. William Gardner. They had established that Tim Ellis had two identities and mapped out his most likely course to hide the victim. The main problem was that his fiancée Miss Steward hadn't contacted Baker Street about the demands or anything of the sort.

The man sitting in front of her was now snoring loudly, his balloon-like chest rising every time he took a breath. She snorted before rising and heading towards her violin; she set it right next to ear and struck a very loud chord.

"What the devil is going on? Miss Watson, how dare you wake me!" he said, glaring at her.

Claire rolled her eyes.

"If I have to stay awake, then so do you, Mr. Holmes." She would have said more but Mrs. Hudson rushed in with a cable from Miss Steward.

"About time that woman got a hold of us," Mycroft grumbled, standing up stiffly to read the cable. _"The kidnapper contacted me, told me in order to settle matters between him and William's father I should send him twenty thousand pounds."_

The pair of them leaped in excitement.

"I knew it!" They said at the same time, making each other turn away and be embarrassed by their excitement.

"So, what do you think the next course of action is, Miss Watson?" the older man asked humbly, afraid someone might hear him.

The young lady shrugged, "As soon as possible we need to send a copy of this to Sherlock. Then we need to contact Miss Steward and see if there is a time limit to the ransom and where it needs to be and so on. That way we can find a way to bring counterfeit bills to the exchange; Ellis won't know their fake until he tries to spend them."

She began to pace around the room, thinking. Mycroft nodded in agreement.

"Should we throw any bones to the police so they can catch Ellis before he spends the cash?"

Claire sighed, ringing for coffee, her watch now said 1:00 pm and to her it felt like 1:00 am.

"If we ask any police to help us, I would rather it not be Lestrade; he still thinks I'm trying to make him feel guilty by siding with his rival."

She shook her head silently as she sat down. Mrs. Hudson poured the coffee and with a small bow of the head she was gone. Claire took a sip of coffee, still trying to think the problem out logically.

"I think Inspector Bradstreet would enjoy this case, and Sherlock tends to get along with him better than that ferret Lestrade."

This made Claire laugh, which made Mycroft blush since he had never seen her laugh before - he thought it was too scandalous to join in. Claire wrote two cables urgently and told Mrs. Hudson to dispatch them immediately.

The thin woman was moving too quickly for Mycroft, and he soon fell back asleep while Claire was pacing about the room. She rolled her eyes and was about to go over to the couch to wake him again, but she looked at how Mycroft almost looked human while sleeping. His head was lowered to his inflating chest and the rest of his body seemed at ease.

Slowly, the lady sat beside him and allowed her eyes to close, and soon her head landed with a soft nudge on Mycroft's shoulder. The older man was too sleepy to notice and the pair remained in their meditative poses until he woke after about an hour. Mycroft at first did not notice anything until he turned to his right to see Miss Watson's brown hair on his shoulder.

To try and move as quickly as possible, he leaned further to the left to allow her head to slowly fall from his shoulder onto a pillow beside him. The older man was bewildered by the sleeping form of Claire and was not sure what to do with her.

There came a loud knock on the door which propelled Claire's head up from the pillow to see who was there. Inspector Bradstreet entered to see a tall lady with messy hair and an older gentleman looking as if he were going to die of pure embarrassment.

"Nice to see you so soon, Inspector, please come in," she said, suppressing a yawn.

Mycroft looked at the Inspector, almost glad to have another male in the room. The mustached man sat down comfortably, looking around for Holmes and the other Watson.

"If you're looking for my employer, he's in Kent with Dr. Watson doing some investigative work," Claire said, trying to make her hair more presentable.

The policeman nodded, trying to hide his surprise. "So, why have you brought me here, Miss Watson?" he asked her but glancing at Mycroft instead.

"It has to do with a kidnapping of a Foreign Service employee; Mr. Holmes will fill you in on the details," she said, resting her arm on the arm of the sofa.

Watson was jarred awake by the sudden stopping of the train, and he and Holmes walked stiffly to their awaiting carriage and headed towards their hotel. The thin detective had said nothing since Watson's near admittance of his cousin's hopelessness of continuing a friendship with Mycroft Holmes. His mind was occupied with what had seen how Claire acted around Holmes's brother, and she seemed to him to act the same around Mycroft as with everyone else. Holmes seemed to get his companion's feelings and spoke as the carriage rattled through a patch of woods.

"You may have noticed Watson, but your cousin tends to be more conservative or careful around my brother because she knows her vibrant independence will only hinder him and the fact she 

has only a few more secrets from him doesn't give much hope to their friendship lasting the year."

Watson gave a surprised eyebrow raise at his friend. "How could you tell, I've seen the same as you but I can't see anything different with her."

He crossed his arms, hoping Holmes wouldn't be too cold to the fact his brother was branching out.

"When she is around Mycroft, you can tell by the way she tries to keep her face pleasant means that she is trying to stop him from reading her expressions accurately. Also, the fact that Miss Watson refuses to believe that her friendship has no foundation gives me the impression that she is trying to make it last as long as possible."

The doctor made a mental note to ask his cousin about these observances later, and nodded quietly as the inn came into view.

The Twin Willows was a fine establishment, adorned with two massive willows, and the Inn was the perfect distance from the Pemberley estate. The innkeeper rushed out to the pair of them.

"A telegram for you, Mr. Holmes, it arrived just before you did."

The detective snatched the telegram away and read it quickly.

"_Have received word from Miss Steward. Ellis wants money to settle debts between him and Basil Gardner. Demands twenty thousand pounds. Have wired Miss Steward for more details. Inspector Bradstreet has offered services and waits word." _

Holmes laughed shortly. "Good, so far the pieces are coming together nicely; Watson, let us make haste and head to Pemberley as fast as possible!" he exclaimed before dashing up the main staircase to change out of his travelling clothes.

Watson shook his head as he followed his friend up the stairs, wondering what would be coming next.


	14. Chapter 14

_**The End of the Road**_

Watson looked at the large green fields and the sparse tress that led to Pemberley, Nigel Gardner's estate. Holmes seemed to not even notice the surrounding beauty but looked up when the massive house came into view.

"Good, we're here! Watson, please don't feel intimidated by the large house; Mr. Gardner is not a man to be feared," the detective said calmly as the cart shuddered to a stop in front of the large oaken doors.

As if by magic the butler appeared and showed them into the main room which showcased a large statue of the current French prime minister and behind it was a grand staircase. Watson looked at the piece and the surrounding French artwork with an air of interest.

"Well, he certainly loves the French," he observed trying to see what Holmes thought.

"Clearly, Mr. Gardner is the right man to be cultural attaché to France; this man should help tremendously with this case, Watson."

The butler kindly informed that Mr. Gardner was on his way and to wait in his office. The office was just as grand, the walls covered with portraits of the family and himself with the French Prime Minister. Watson sat on the couch while Holmes studied the portraits and pointed to one featuring a slim young man with strawberry blond hair and blue eyes.

"This is our victim, Watson; it would do you good to memorize his features," he said, making his friend stand to study the painting.

The door to the office opened as the two men returned to their previous positions, and revealed a tall, balding man with green eyes who stepped into the room.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen, please sit down. Would either of you like a glass of brandy?"

Watson declined as well as Sherlock and took out his notebook to take notes.

"Mr. Gardner, you must have some idea that your son William has been kidnapped," the detective started, studying the man who was seated behind his desk.

"Yes, his fiancée contacted me as soon as she realized that he was missing," the thin man nodded.

"I have just received word from Miss Steward mentioning that she was once engaged to a Mr. Jim Ellis, can you tell us if that is so?"

The attaché's face grew grim, but he answered the question nonetheless. "Yes, it was true; the man was a former friend of William's. They had both attended Oxford together and were teammates on the school's rowing team. About five years ago, Jim was engaged to marry Gertrude Steward while William was playing for the Royal Theatre orchestra and courting another violin player. Jim started to go bad, began drinking more and gambling away his weekly allowance from his father. I asked William what could have caused this and he confessed that he was seeing Miss Steward behind Ellis's back. Of course he told me that he felt terrible for ruining his friendship with Ellis and his courtship but he loved Miss Steward so much he was willing to make sacrifices."

Watson had to keep his face focused on his note paper to stop himself from mentioning who the lady was and how much damage it had done to her.

"Of course it was only a matter of time until he was found out by Ellis or the other lady; to my surprise the lady found out before Ellis had and exposed the affair. Ellis was furious, and went into a rampage, drinking and gambling like he had nothing to lose. Soon he was stealing from shops to keep up with his gambling debts and ended up kidnapping one of his loaners and killed him in broad daylight."

The man shook his head. "I know all of this from William and what the courts could get from Ellis himself. I'm happy that my son found happiness but when it results in his own kidnapping by his former friend I feel obligated to help."

Holmes looked at the man with his cold eyes, looking for any indication of a lie.

"Mr. Gardner, did you ever meet this Jim Ellis?" he asked, bypassing the questions of his assistant's actions.

"Yes, a few times when William came home for the summer holidays he would bring Jim along. He was a pleasant fellow, came from a good family and had impeccable manners. It just killed me to see a young man like that to go down such a dark path."

He shook his head sadly almost in defeat. The detective nodded and then stood up and began to pace.

"Why did you not stop your son from doing such a thing to a friend? Was his happiness worth it?" He paced, still keeping both eyes on his subject.

"Before he confessed to me about his true actions, I had no idea what was going on; he had been telling me of his performances at the theatre and how much he cared for the lady he was seeing."

Holmes then did something surprising - he asked about the mystery lady.

"Who was this lady your son saw before his love affair with Miss Gertrude?"

The attaché scratched his chin in deep thought.

"It was another violinist by the name of Claire Watson, I believe. I didn't mention her before, because she was so perfect for William that after the affair business she blamed me for withholding information and told me how this could have all been prevented if I had spoken out earlier."

Watson's right hand was now shaking in rage and Holmes could see his dutiful chronicler would punch Mr. Basil Gardner if he did not step in.

"What did you think of her words towards you?" Holmes asked, stepping in between Watson and his future target to prevent any future violence.

"Well, naturally, I felt bad for the lady, she was the one who discovered the affair after all, and I couldn't help but give her some money to give her a comfortable living. It was the least I could do. Mr. Holmes, that woman must have felt so betrayed I'm surprised she had the courage to come forward to me with the information."

Watson couldn't take any more of Mr. Gardner's portrayal of his cousin and stood up and was about to reprimand his friend's client. Holmes thankfully cut of his friend and bowed his head to Mr. Basil Gardner.

"Thank you, Mr. Gardner, for taking the time to give us this enlightening interview. We will let you know as soon as possible when we find your son."

Watson stormed out without a second glance at the client and did not stop walking until he got outside. Holmes caught up to his friend to see him seething in the cart.

"Watson, how dare you treat Mr. Gardner like that? You cannot judge a man just because he doesn't give two bits about how your cousin dealt with the affair!" he stormed, his mood equaling his friend's.

"Well I do, Holmes! He treated Claire's emotions as something to pay off and I for one can't take that in stride!" he shouted as the cart rattled back to the hotel.

"Miss Watson seemed not to be vexed about it to me," Holmes said calmly.

"That's because she's been hiding in emotional armor all this time, Holmes! Don't you see, after her involvement with the professor Claire found a man she loved and who loved her back only to find that he was seeing another woman! Think of what that would do to a person's heart and confidence!" Watson was shouting, not caring who heard his anger.

Holmes stared at his friend to try and stem his anger. "Watson, try and be a rational being - you are acting like a raving maniac. I don't think Miss Watson would be as kind as I am to your behavior, so try and pull yourself together or I'll be forced to lock you in your hotel room!" he said threateningly.

Watson took a deep breath and looked embarrassed, "I'm sorry Holmes, I just overreacted; it won't happen again."

Holmes nodded, "I'll see to it that you keep your temper. Now we have a train to catch tonight, I have all I need – now the only thing remaining is to bring Ellis out into the open."

Holmes rubbed his hands together in excitement, hoping that his assistant was behaving herself.

Claire rubbed her temples as she looked at Inspector Bradstreet.

"For the last time, Inspector, I haven't been talking with William Gardner since his affair four years ago. I can only tell you what he's been up to from the newspapers."

Mycroft Holmes had gone home, leaving her to brood upon the manner of setting up a trap for Ellis. Bradstreet was back at the flat because he had gotten a telegram from Holmes telling him of Claire's history with William.

"Are you absolutely certain, Miss Watson?"

The lady nodded, "For the last time, _yes_, if you want an updated view of William ask Mr. Mycroft Holmes. They worked in the same building; he might know something about what was going on before the kidnapping," she said, tired of answering questions.

Mrs. Hudson came in with another cable from Holmes, this time for Claire. It read, _"Ellis engaged to Miss Steward. Spiraled down a path leading to kidnapping due to fact that his fiancé was with another man. Didn't know who until you came out with it. Will return late tonight. Tell Bradstreet that you have absolute authority until I get there. Holmes."_

Claire showed it to Bradstreet, who muttered uncomfortably about not wanting a woman in charge of him, but otherwise didn't say anything else.

"Well, here is a map of the places so far that people have reported seeing men fitting Ellis's description."

The inspector unrolled map of London and pointed to the places with red markers. Claire noticed that the red dots were centered on the dock area, and began to rub her chin.

"We need to find where in the dock Ellis is hiding. I think that is a job for the Baker Street Irregulars, and Bloody Mary," she said, stiffly going outside onto the street to get Wiggins.

Bradstreet watched her talk to the filthy street urchin and after a few moments she returned with Wiggins and a slight smile.

"Bradstreet, you know Wiggins. He's agreed to help us find Ellis and if William is alive."

Wiggins smiled at the Inspector, who found out how many teeth the child was missing.

Claire left the two to wander around the sitting room; Wiggins tried to open the desk only to get a sharp reprimand from Bradstreet and a cup of cocoa from Mrs. Hudson. The young lady emerged from the other room, her hair lighter, and falling out of her bun, her tattered shawl covered the dirty red scarf she had around her left arm and through the dirt on her face, Bradstreet could barely recognize her.

"All right, Wiggins, let's be off! I hope you don't mind waiting for us, Inspector, but we will be some time. Mrs. Hudson will give you a nice sandwich in a bit and please don't drink all the brandy."

The lady bowed to him before coughing slightly and following Wiggins out the door into the street.

Holmes and Watson took a cab to Baker Street, tired from the long journey. Watson was much calmer than before and Holmes was in his thinking-out-the-case mood and did not notice anything until the cab stopped.

The two men climbed out and returned to the flat that held a sleeping Bradstreet and a weary Mrs. Hudson.

"Good to see you both back so soon. Miss Watson left a few hours ago with that Wiggins lad; they should be back very soon," she said, taking their bags up and disappearing.

Holmes shook Bradstreet awake.

"You're under arrest! Anything you say…" The inspector trailed off to see Holmes and Watson standing over him. "What time is it?" He asked, reaching for a small glass of brandy.

"It's half-past midnight, Bradstreet," Holmes said, lighting a pipe in no time.

"She and the boy should have been back by now. I knew that Claire Watson would get into trouble at some point," he grumbled.

Watson was about to glare at him when the door opened wide to reveal Claire in her Bloody Mary disguise and Wiggins next to her looking very tired and very pale.

"Good God, Claire! What happened to you?" Watson asked her urgently, guiding his cousin to the couch where she sat down, still pale and shaking a little.

"We found him," she croaked, not looking at anybody in particular.

Bradstreet smiled and held out a hand to congratulate Claire.

"I didn't say _whom_ I found, did I?" she said sarcastically, reaching for Bradstreet's brandy and returning the color to her face. She motioned Wiggins to come forth, who spoke nervously.

"As the Miss said we went down to the dock, an we looked 'round where the 'nspector told us to look. We found 'er ol gang and they were nice enough to 'elp us out. It was an hour ago we found that William fella you were lookin' for. He's still kickin' but Ellis is starvin' him and we don't have much time to get him out."

Claire nodded, chomping into a piece of bread, offering Wiggins a small cake. She cleared her throat.

"William has three days at the most - he looked like a skeleton when we found him. He's in the Mermaid bar on the third floor locked in the closet. My scarf members say that Ellis should be back in the morning, so if you want to rescue him it has to be now or never," she said before lying down and going to sleep.

Wiggins got paid by Holmes and agreed to lead the detective and Watson to the site. Inspector Bradstreet at once wanted back up but Holmes refused.

"We are just concerned with getting Mr. Gardner out of there alive, and with the three of us it should be easy to get him out of there," Holmes said, removing his revolver from the locked desk drawer.

"Come Watson, the game is afoot! To the docks!" Holmes said, dashing off to a cab and a very weary Watson following him.

Claire rose slowly to redress and waited silently to see the man who had destroyed her heart.


	15. Chapter 15

_**A Woman Scorned**_

By the time Watson, Bradstreet, and Holmes returned from the harbor the sun had risen and was giving the sky a shade of pink. Claire Watson had slept little; her mind and heart were becoming too agitated for slumber. On one hand she was glad William Gardner was getting punished, but on the other hand she felt guilty for letting this happen to him.

The house at Baker Street was empty except for herself and Mrs. Hudson, who was still fast asleep. She could hear the carriage because the shouting tones of Holmes could be heard from the open window. Quietly she descended to unlock the front door and then returned to situate herself behind the desk, making sure her face was hidden in shadow.

Watson burst into the room carrying a twig of man with faded blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Bradstreet and Holmes and (to Claire's dismay) Mycroft Holmes brought up the rear. Watson laid the man down the couch and darted for the kitchen while Holmes and the rest of the men turned to Claire.

"Well done in finding Mr. William Gardner, Miss Watson - your actions saved this man's life," Inspector Bradstreet congratulated the silent figure.

The man looked up at the mention of the last name Watson and saw at the desk with the rising sun behind her none other than Claire Watson. William gulped, seeing the same ocean-blue eyes and marble-like expression that he left four years ago. Both Holmes brothers watched him shrink back as if cornered by a wild beast.

"Why is she here?" he managed to stammer out.

Holmes opened his mouth to answer but Claire answered for herself.

"I am Mr. Sherlock Holmes's assistant, William. Did you have a nice time at the docks?" she asked sarcastically.

Holmes looked at his assistant, thinking she would be in tears or angry beyond control. To his surprise along with everyone else's, Claire looked normal except for the color of her eyes, which had gone darker. William waited for her to move but she didn't, making him sigh in relief.

"I'm glad you have moved on to a better life, Claire. It seems you are better off than I am at this moment," he said, trying to be charming.

Claire stayed behind the desk, eerily calm and statuesque, and smiled slightly at his attempt of a joke.

Watson returned with some light food and began to feed it to William slowly so his stomach would not heave it back up. Holmes appeared next to William, ready to interrogate him even if his subject was not ready to answer.

"William Bruce Gardner, you are here in my office because you were kidnapped by your former friend Jim Ellis. According to accounts by your father and others, you drove your friend to madness by having an affair with his fiancé."

William looked at Claire along with Mycroft when Holmes mentioned "others." Claire was beside herself with anger, but forced herself to only take off her gloves instead of strangling William.

"This of course is an offense of infidelity and of course many other social rules. What have you to say?" Holmes said coldly, peering at the man.

The gentleman's eyes widened before answering.

"Is it wrong to fall in love? Yes, I'll admit falling for my good friend's fiancé while I was courting was not my ideal choice; but fate it seemed to me had given me a gift and I should cherish it."

There came a snort of disbelief from the desk which made all the heads turn toward the scorned woman.

"That's a lie, William Gardner and you know it!" spat Claire, through with trying to be pleasant towards him.

The horrified man watched his former lover's eyes burst into what he thought to be flames which made him retreat further into the couch. But as Claire was about to denounce his intentions for cheating on her, Mycroft stopped her with a single sentence.

"He's not worth it, Claire."

The pair locked eyes, his grey ones seeping into her dark blue ones.

Watson tried to keep an eye on what the two were doing but his primary care was to feed the starved man. Holmes, on the other hand, watched along with William at the long-held stare by his brother and Miss Watson. Claire's eyes gradually turned back to her normal color and she lowered her head in consent, facing William once more. William had never seen anyone be able to reduce his former lover's anger that quickly and it astounded him.

"How did you do that?" he asked, awestruck by Mycroft's ability.

The large man turned to face him and glared at the young man. "It is not wise, Mr. Gardner, to meddle in other's affairs. I hoped you would have learned that by now."

Claire smiled at her friend's answer and looked at William triumphantly.

It was William's turn to smile but for a different reason entirely.

"I see you've found a new protector, I'd be careful if I were you - she's a feisty one," he drawled to Mycroft's doughy physique.

What he got in return was Claire leaping over the desk and standing in front of him, glaring at him with her eyes blazing.

"Do not assume that I need protection. Do not attempt to judge me after what you did to me, you should be worshipping the fact I didn't _shoot_ you when I saw you and Gertrude together!" she hissed - and no one stopped her; even Bradstreet didn't bother to recognize that she had just threatened a victim of a kidnapping. William tried to break away from the glare he was getting from both her and Watson.

The doctor stood up to pull Claire back but he was livid nonetheless.

"How a gentleman could treat such a lady is beyond cruel in my eyes. Have you no sense of the consequences of your actions? You drove one man to kidnapping and murder and the woman who loved you to a lifeless statue of her former self!"

Bradstreet had heard enough and took William by his arms.

"Come on, Mr. Gardner, let's get you back to your fiancé. Have a good morning, gentlemen, Miss Watson." He inclined his head to them all and closed the door behind him.

Claire stared at the door, still livid at the man who had once been face to face with her. She didn't say a word but sat on the couch and rubbed her hands on her face, aware of how she acted. Watson stood behind and patted her shoulder.

"Don't blame yourself for your actions, Claire. If that had been I, I would have thrown him a punch or two."

His cousin snorted, looking now at the man who William called her new protector.

"I'm sorry for my outburst of anger, Mycroft. I thought I would be all right. But the way he acted it, just made my blood boil and I couldn't hold it in my mind any longer," she said, somewhat aware of the fact she had just called him by his first name.

Holmes had been quiet since Claire's outburst of anger and was now smoking a pipe next to his brother.

"Let us hope we don't have to deal with that man again. Miss Watson, you dealt with your anger better than I expected. I thought you were going to throttle that fellow when you jumped over my desk."

He hide a smile but that merely made Claire return it. Mycroft was still silent which made Claire very wary but she didn't want to press the issue any further than she had. He spoke after he brother stopped smiling and Watson had returned to his seat.

"Miss Watson, when Mr. Gardner called me your protector what did he mean by that?"

The lady before him actually blushed slightly, almost making Watson fall out of his chair.

"William got the silly notion because of your power to calm me you and I were lovers of some sort," she said matter-of-factly, trying to keep her eyes fixed to his instead of dwelling on the fact she had blushed.

Watson laughed at this along with Holmes, seeing that both Claire and Mycroft were turning progressively redder in embarrassment. Holmes stopped laughing long enough to see his brother sidestep to the door.

"Brother mine, you aren't thinking of leaving without a retort against Miss Watson's former lover?" he asked, waving his pipe around slowly.

Mycroft snorted and sat across from Claire who was through with blushing and was now looking guilty.

"Since you asked so nicely, Sherlock, I would have to say that Mr. Gardner has no business whatsoever in trying to detect my or Miss Watson's feelings."

Claire clapped at this with a smile. "Bravo, Mr. Holmes I couldn't have said it better myself," she said with a sigh. The four of them could feel as if a great weight had been lifted and saw a much happier Claire sitting in front of them.

Watson turned to his cousin. "Claire, why are you in such a good mood? Your former lover just left after admitting to breaking your heart."

His cousin laughed heartily at this. "Which is why I'm feeling so much better, I had been dying to tell William off once and for all. And since I finally did my emotions will no longer be held hostage by his memory," she said with a flick of her wrist.

Mycroft saw finally after months of poking and examining he had found what was underneath Claire Watson's armor. She had protected herself against everything and the one time she let her guard down it back lashed but for some new reason she saw a good reason to break the mold once again.

He was intrigued by this new personality of Claire and wasn't sure what to make of it, he knew his brother was interested but his short-sightedness about women weren't going to get him very far with Miss Watson. Holmes saw the look of interest in his brother's eyes and knew that look only all too well.

"Mycroft can I see you in the hallway a moment?" he asked, putting his pipe out and stepping into the small hallway.

Mycroft excused himself politely from the lady and stepped out to see his brother glaring at him once more.

The elder Holmes was confused between his brother's assistant changing moods every few moments and the fact his brother couldn't cope with him associating with her.

"Mycroft, I've seen you look that way at things before and it never ends well," the younger said right away, trying to avoid eavesdroppers.

Mycroft shrugged, "What look? I expected Miss Watson to be paranoid but not my own blood. Ever since that Greek Interpreter case you've been mocking me for associating with her," he said, getting very annoyed with his brother's lack of common sense.

"I saw you look at my assistant just now as if she was a rare breed of bird. She is not to be studied, remember what happened with Miss Burberry?" Sherlock asked rhetorically, poking at his brother's mental sore spot.

"Miss Burberry was my pet toad! Miss Watson is a woman, an entirely different species altogether! Sherlock, what exactly are you trying to say?" he asked, nose to nose with his younger brother.

Sherlock sneered at him. "I find that your friendship with my assistant is a sure sign that the world is unraveling, Mycroft. People like you don't just drop everything because of a woman who has an interesting background. Like I told Miss Watson, it's only a matter of time until you lose interest. With this last business with that Gardner fellow, I doubt she has anything else worth noting."

Holmes had finally let his brother have his true opinion, but now he couldn't help but feel the tiniest sense of remorse for what he had said.

Claire Watson had heard everything from the other side of the door and was trying to find a shred of sanity in her tortured heart. That day alone she had been up and down the emotional rollercoaster and the conversation in the hall was just the thing she didn't need.

Watson tried to calm her. "Claire, please try to stay calm - you've had a very rough day and night. You know as well as I that Holmes does not like sudden change, especially from his own family," he said reassuringly.

But Claire had enough of all the yelling about her relationship with Mycroft and with a deep breath she entered the battlefield. Mycroft was about to tell Holmes off about his assumptions when they noticed the very lady they were talking about standing in between them.

"I can't have you both fighting about me every time we meet! I've tried to be reasonable and realistic but the fact of the matter is I'm friends with Mycroft, Mr. Holmes. You may detest me for the fact I changed your brother's lifestyle just a bit. But the one thing you haven't taken into consideration on this matter is what _I_ feel about all this."

Watson tried to pull her away but she stood firm in-between them.

Both brothers looked at her quizzically as if they had never heard of that concept but the older of two spoke first.

"My brother feels as your employer that it is his duty to protect you from my tinkering of your past and he doesn't like the fact I've changed some of my routines."

The thinner Holmes looked at Claire as if he didn't believe what his brother was saying.

"I have no desire to protect you except from the Professor, but he is right about the second point."

Claire sighed at the pair of them. "Look. Mr. Holmes, I cannot help it if your brother likes me. I'm not going to change who I am just because you don't like it!"

She crossed her arms as if daring Holmes to rebuke her.

Holmes sneered at her for the first time since the two had met.

"I am your employer, and I can ask you do to whatever I want under pain of getting sacked."

Claire's marble face broke into a very angry but sad expression.

"How dare you say that to me today? After everything I've done for your cases, you want to sack me because I'm friends with your brother and I won't change my personality?"

Claire shook her head, she was tearing up for the first time in two years and she didn't like it. Mycroft could tell she was about to cry and he tried to tell his brother to go easy on her but Holmes roared ahead.

"Yes, that's a good reason as any to sack you! You disrupt my work process with your feminine qualities. I don't even know why I hired you in the first place!"

That shout was what broke Claire's dam on her tears and without any reason they began to fall - a few at first but then there were twin streamers of tears running down her once perfect face. Claire tried to move past the gentlemen towards Watson's room where she could cry in peace.

Mycroft had no idea what to do with a crying woman and his brother seemed to angry too care. Claire began to walk up the stairs, embarrassed that she was crying but also angry at Holmes for wanting to fire her under bad terms.

Mycroft glared at his brother, "See what you've done, Sherlock?! You've gone and made your assistant cry, and I will not have you bully her every moment you get!" he said, raising his voice to his angry brother.

Watson was also glaring at Holmes.

"Holmes, why did you have to go make Claire cry? She has been through a lot in the past couple of days. You are being insufferably insensitive!" he said, shaking a finger at his friend.

The thinner Holmes looked at the two angry men with his heartless glare. "Miss Watson is my assistant, Mycroft – it is her job to do what I tell her to. By refusing to change her lifestyle choice she is in breach of that contract. I do not have the patience to try to be sensitive."

Watson was about to yell at Holmes when Mycroft interrupted him.

"Sherlock, you have to stop thinking about only yourself right now, upstairs is your faithful assistant who never questioned your judgment or practice. She has been put through a lot yesterday and this morning, she had to see a man we both realise destroyed her heart and she had to keep all of that inside her. You know as well as I that you went too far by telling her that you regretted hiring her in the first place."

Watson looked from brother to brother, wondering how it was going to end.

Holmes sighed, and looked at Watson who was still livid from his remarks about Claire.

"I suppose you are right, I did realize that today would be hard and Miss Watson held up longer than any other woman would have. But it will be more damaging if I try to apologise now."

Mycroft nodded in agreement. "True, she will not be as forgiving if you come to her right away; I shall go upstairs and attempt to make amends for your unthinking callousness," he said gruffly before heading up the stairs to the door Claire had disappeared behind.

Watson almost followed him but Holmes motioned him to go into the study.

* * *

Author's Note: I've decided to make this fic 20 chapter and then possibly do a prequel about the spy work Claire keeps alluding to. Thank you all for your support and reviews! And big thnaks to my editor KCS :)!


	16. Chapter 16

Unending Patience

_**Unending Patience**_

I looked at my good friend Holmes after I saw my cousin start crying after he told her he regretted ever hiring her. I was not going to let him get away with making Claire feel so rotten.

"Holmes, you should be the one to go upstairs to apologize to her! As Mycroft said, she has had a rough day by having to see her old lover, who treated her with little civility. And on the top of that you had to yell at her for not wanting to change her relationship with your brother."

I was standing by now and was glowering at him, very clearly furious at his actions. Holmes sighed, massaging his forehead with his left hand, trying to keep his focus on something besides my angry look.

"Watson, as I told my brother, if I go upstairs right now it will only do more damage to Miss Watson. I did go too far, I admit that now. But you have to understand my position, my brother is a recluse who has shown many times that he will not change his ways for _anybody_."

I sighed, seeing his rationale was much more calculated than I had thought.

"But in Claire's case, you think he would change for her?" I asked, trying to keep relaxed.

Holmes shook his head, "I don't think your cousin wants him to change. This is the best way for everyone; even if that means them being together."

He sighed, lighting a pipe and sitting in his favourite chair to pick up the paper. I nodded in agreement, eager to use my notes and start my chronicles of this case. But in this drama, unlike the others I had written, I felt obligated to highlight my cousin's behavior and connections to the case. I looked up from my notebook towards the door, wondering what was going on between my cousin and Holmes's brother.

Claire wiped away her unending stream of tears as she sat on the bed, trying to ignore the sound of a soft but insistent knock on her door.

"Claire, please open the door. Sherlock just went too far, and you know how childish he can be around people. The idiot has no tact sometimes, never has," Mycroft's consoling voice wafted into her ears.

The young lady sighed sadly and as if by an invisible string was drawn to the door and opened it a crack. In the soft gaslight, she looked almost angelic to Mycroft, who wasn't sure if he should stand in the hallway or come in and comfort her.

"Did you want to console me or are you just going to stand there?" she asked finally, wiping away her tears and wishing desperately that they would go away.

After looking around to make no one saw him go in, Mycroft followed her inside but kept the door half open.

She sat on the bed, trying to calm down and stop acting emotional, but the tears seemed uncooperative.

"You know this isn't only about your brother, Mycroft, it is just that after everything today I just couldn't hold it in anymore."

Claire blew her nose softly and tried to focus on Mycroft's comforting eyes instead of imagining how bad she looked. The large man nodded as he sat in the chair across from her.

"It's very reasonable - after meeting the lad today I'm surprised you didn't do more. I can see you are clearly over him now but while we had him in the room I couldn't help but want to throttle him for you," he said shyly not sure why he was being so sensitive to her.

Claire hid a smile, "Thank you, Mycroft but I think the thing that stopped me from hurting him was that I didn't want to give him the satisfaction that he had hurt me so deeply that I had to hurt him back." Her tears finally ceased for the moment, making her seem less emotional but still in pain.

Mycroft saw the logic in her sentiments and nodded once more in approval, and found himself pushing the chair closer towards the bed to get a better look at his friend.

"So, what will happen now that you've been liberated of that odious man?" he asked quietly, wondering how long he would have to be in the room.

Claire shrugged, "Do what I've been doing, work and maybe give a concert in the future. Just live my life one day at a time."

The lady seemed to be all right enough and Mycroft rose to leave but she stopped him.

"Thank you for coming up here, I know it wasn't easy," Claire said, facing him with a look of content at last.

"It was my pleasure, Claire."

Mycroft brushed away a stray piece of her hair, unaware that he was doing it until his hand brushed her cheek. He stood there, not sure what she would say or do, and to his surprise (and slight consternation) she hugged him. Claire was just as surprised to find that her arms went completely around him, and the sensation of his arms brushing her shoulders was interesting at the least.

Mycroft, trying not to blush furiously, walked down the stairs with Claire in front of him, carrying her carpet bag. She poked her head into the sitting room, where Watson was beginning to write out the adventure and Holmes was smoking his pipe and reading his mail simultaneously.

"I'm all right now, and my outburst is no fault of Mr. Holmes's - he just said something at the wrong time."

She was about to turn away when Watson stopped her. "Claire, come in here and talk to me."

The young lady sighed and walked in, sitting next to her cousin.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked her, looking for any signs that said otherwise.

"Yes, John, I'm perfectly fine. I just had to let out my emotions, and it just happened sooner than I hoped." Claire smiled slightly before returning to the door. "Mycroft has offered to take a cab with me on his way to Whitehall, but I'll be back soon," she said, giving a wave to both men and taking her violin case, departed out of the room.

Mycroft entered soon after Claire had passed him with her calm, meditative look.

"I hope you two have a good afternoon, I have a lot of work to do at Whitehall," he said, giving his brother and Watson a nod of respect.

Sherlock stopped him before he had the chance to turn away. "Brother, you know I do not take sudden changes very well, but if you are serious about maintaining a friendship with my assistant then I give you my blessing."

Watson laughed and Claire came back up the stairs just to see Mycroft's serene reaction. "Thank you, Sherlock, you will make things much easier by accepting it than by fighting it. Now if you don't mind, I have a cab to catch."

He tipped his hat once more and followed Claire downstairs, where the pair caught a cab. Watson watched them ride off into London, and then when the coast was clear he turned to Holmes.

"Pay up, you have given them freedom of friendship which means you have hope; so pay up, old man!" he said, grinning ear to ear.

Holmes scoffed at the statement before reaching into his pocket-book and giving his friend the money he owed him.

"I never said I had hope Watson, but it will be interesting to see if my brother maintains this friendship," he snorted, looking at the paper.

Watson shrugged at the statement.

"Well, Claire has told him everything so it's just a matter of where they go from there."

Holmes nodded looking off into the distance. "It's a game of chance, and the odds are in Mycroft's favor but I don't know what he will do."

The pair sat in comfortable silence, wondering what was going to happen in the coming months and if the friendship would last even longer with Holmes's blessing.

Claire sat comfortably in the cab while it rattled on the cobblestone-paved streets towards Whitehall. Mycroft studied her silent expression as one of contentment, and could not help cracking a smile.

"So, Miss Watson, would you like to go to the concert on Saturday? My brother is coming along with the Watsons, and I am sure we would enjoy the company."

Claire looked at him, well aware this was a rare smile of Mycroft's.

"Yes, of course, I would be honored to accompany the group. From what I've heard it's supposed to be quite good," she said, adding her smile to his.

The cab stopped and Claire stepped out to say goodbye to Mycroft.

"I shall see you on Saturday, Mr. Holmes, and by the way you can call me Claire, now that we've been given 'the blessing' by your brother," she said, waving goodbye to him as he entered the building.

Claire climbed back into the cab and instructed the cabby to her flat, where she could drop off her belongings and go back to work with no more tension between her and Sherlock Holmes.

Watson sat, writing away, hoping to get all of the fresh developments in print before the details left his mind. Holmes as usual sat back in his chair, basking in the light of a solved case; this almost happy quality to his personality only lasted a week before he would begin to grow bored once more.

Claire approached the sitting room of 221B once again and sat at her previous position behind the desk. Watson looked up to see his cousin sitting down and turned to face her with concern.

"So, Claire, will you be all right from now on?"

She nodded silently. "Yes, John, there is no need to worry about my emotions anymore. Unless something truly tragic happens I'll remain content." Claire said diplomatically, opening the mail carefully. "By the way, your brother invited me to that concert tomorrow night, Mr. Holmes," she added in a slightly happier tone.

Watson smiled at his cousin's flicker of happiness. "That's good to hear, I'm sure we will all enjoy your company, Claire."

Holmes looked up from his telegram and nodded. "Since it is Beethoven's 5th symphony I gather that you will enjoy the performance as well," he said dully.

Claire snickered at the comment. "I do love Beethoven's music - he is one of my favourite composers," she sniffed loftily.

The three of them sat in comfortable silence - Watson trying to make an outline, Holmes meditating, and Claire checking the mail. Her eyes fell on a recently delivered telegram. "Well, it seems Mr. Gardner has gotten safely to Miss. Steward's estate. She is thinking about holding a ball in your honor, Mr. Holmes and they will not take no for an answer," she said, handing him the sheet of paper.

Holmes's grey eyes swept across the paper listlessly and then handed it to Watson.

"You failed to mention that we were all invited, Miss Watson. I know with your recent outburst you might be disinclined to come, but if you bring Mycroft along this William fellow might keep his distance."

Claire shrugged, "I suppose so, but she failed to mention a specific date so it all depends on the timing. As for William, your brother isn't my only line of defense," she said slyly, her eyes sparkling with mystery.

Watson eyed her suspiciously. "What do you mean by that, Claire?" he asked, hoping it didn't involve violence.

The response he got was a short burst of laughter from Claire. "A lady never tells, you must have patience with me, John."

The doctor sighed. "It seems I have unending patience these days, but I must be off, for I promised Mary I would be home early today." He gathered up his notes and black bag and with a nod departed.

When the doctor went out of the room he saw his friend and his cousin behaving like regular human beings for the first time in quite a long time, and it made him feel better about the future.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Music of the Night**_

Claire Watson fussed with her hair, tired of it not cooperating with her pins and falling out everywhere. She sighed, hoping that Holmes wouldn't point out that she was wearing a new gown. Her hands tried to smooth the deep purple silk without shaking slightly, but just thinking about sitting through a Beethoven Symphony with her employer and his brother and her cousin seemed to cause her normal calmness to subside. Finally with a flick of her wrist and a few curses her hair stayed. The lady took a look in the mirror and took a deep breath, hoping that everything would be fine.

Sherlock Holmes looked over at his brother's best suit and tried not to scoff at the red vest that made him look like Father Christmas. Elder brother, however noticed the stare, "I know what you are thinking, Sherlock, but this is my best vest and I don't care if you think it makes me look like a bringer of gifts!" he said sharply, trying to tie his tie and shake a finger at his brother at the same time.

The younger checked his dapper suit that had no color whatsoever and prided himself for looking so put-together. Mycroft finished dressing and looked at his pocket watch.

"What time is Miss Watson supposed to arrive here?" he asked, attempting to not sound anxious.

The detective sighed. "Watson said she would arrive at his house right about now, so it would be best if we set off for the Watsons'," he said, grabbing his top hat and gloves.

Mycroft followed, hoping that his actions would not tip off his younger brother. Their cab ride was quiet, which was a blessing to each of them. The doctor's flat came into view and the two well-dressed bachelors climbed up the stairs where they were greeted by a very dapper Watson and his lovely wife Mary.

"Come in, come in! Claire should be here soon; it seems she wants to be fashionably late, or so Mary tells me," chuckled the doctor, leading his two friends into the parlor.

Mary and Watson sat across from both brothers and could not think of a subject to discuss so Sherlock reluctantly began to talk to Watson.

"My dear doctor, you seem ill at ease - what's troubling you?"

Watson shifted in his seat, trying to hold back a smile. "Well, it's not every day we get to go to a concert such as this and I'm worried that Claire might be overwhelmed at the theatre," he said, trying to elude mentioning Claire's condition.

Both Holmeses tried to answer at the same time with hilarious effects over the doctor and his wife. The detective glanced at his older brother with amusement.

"Why don't you give us your answer first, Mycroft, since you seem to be an expert on paranoia?"

The elder brother cleared his throat before answering. "I believe that Miss Watson has enough courage to go to a large concert, and her progress and strong confidence in the fact that none of her enemies will be there gives me the notion that she will be fine," he said with a nod.

Sherlock nodded in approval.

"Quite so; and besides, Miss Watson showed in the last case that she has control over her past and if somehow a person or persons appear she can deal with it accordingly," he said in a brisk tone.

The doctor nodded. "Let us hope that we can all enjoy the concert without any sense of trepidation."

As soon as Watson had finished his thought there was a knock on the door and his wife Mary rose to see who it was. All three men leaned in unison to hear who it was, and when they heard womanly laughter they all nodded in understanding. Mrs. Mary Watson approached the group with a small smile on her face, and with the sound of rustling silk Claire Watson appeared.

Mycroft's mouth fell open at the sight of Claire Watson in a deep purple silk dress, and was unaware that he was also blushing. Claire smiled sweetly at this reaction.

"Perhaps I should wear this more often, since this is the only thing that will turn a man's face a different color," she said, sitting delicately.

Mycroft shut his mouth with a snap in embarrassment and grumbled to himself about acting foolishly. His brother did not seem as taken aback but then again Sherlock wasn't the type to be turn into mush by seeing a gorgeous woman.

"Claire, you look stunning in that gown - I'm almost jealous," Mrs. Watson said with a giggle, trying to break the silence.

The younger lady smiled at this. "Why, thank you, Mary. I like your dress as well; I've been waiting for an event such as this to wear something more refined," she said with slight humor in her voice.

The silence was profound as always for the men didn't know exactly what to say anymore.

"Well, are you three going to be staring at us all night or are we going to have a pleasant conversation?" Claire asked somewhat bluntly.

Holmes was the first to speak, "I agree with you, Miss Watson, a stimulating conversation is just what we need before we venture out to the concert hall."

Claire nodded, "It so happens, the place we're going to is near the Royal Theatre, where I played all those years ago. So it will be like a trip down memory lane for me," she said with a slight look of remembrance.

Watson decided to avoid talking about how his cousin would handle the large crowd and instead talk about the venue. "The Rose Theatre is one of the best, from what Holmes and I have seen there. And the best part is that we have balcony seats so we can have a better look at the stage." The group nodded in unison.

Mycroft checked his pocket watch secretively.

"It's almost time; we had better be off," he said and let the women go first before leading the men outside to the cab.

Somehow Claire managed to squish her dress inside the narrow doorway, trying not to curse her bustle, and sat comfortably next to Mycroft. The older man didn't quite know what to do inside such cramped quarters, but thankfully the theater was nearby and the party didn't seem vexed on the lack of conversation. The cab glided into the front of the theatre and the cabby even helped the ladies out.

Claire hid a smile as the group ventured towards the front of the theatre, but to her surprise Watson went ahead of her with Mary with a very nervous look on his face.

"John, what's the matter? Is something wrong?" she whispered in his ear.

Her cousin tried to shrug it off but his family member was glaring at him. "I'm just worried that you may become overwhelmed with the number of people here, Claire; you may have reason to fear that someone who wishes you ill is here."

Claire sneered at him. "Paranoia is different from Agoraphobia, John. Alexander hates Beethoven and so does the Professor, so I have no reason to fear that they would be here," she said shaking her head sadly.

Watson was taken aback by his cousin's comments and bit his tongue from telling her that he was only looking after her best interests.

Mycroft joined Claire in ascending the red carpeted stairs.

"Miss Watson, I knew from the moment you accepted my invitation that you would be fine. You cousin probably feels that he has to look out for you since he hasn't seen you break down or show signs of your phobia."

His friend half smiled at him as she kept an eye on the rest of the group behind them. "John is always worried about me or Sherlock - I think it's part of his role in the cases we do. I'm glad someone else worries besides myself," she stated plainly with tears of mirth in her eyes.

Mycroft nodded still not sure what to do in front of such a lady. He helped her sit in a plush red velvet chair before joining her in the chair on her right. Claire scanned the program and smiled.

"You failed to mention that we would also be hearing Beethoven's 9th Symphony, which is also a favorite of mine," she said, pointing at the selection with her gloved hand. Sherlock looked over her shoulder and nodded his approval.

"I think it is wise of the conductor to do both, since they are considered his best works," he stated simply, his eyes softening as they rarely did without the help of his cocaine bottle.

The curtains parted to show the large symphonic orchestra and as the first violinist tuned the group, Claire glanced at the people below, and recognized a familiar face in the crowd and suppressed another smile.

Mycroft, however, wasn't fooled. "Who do you know that is below us?" he asked politely.

Claire pointed towards a slim young man with a red tie and small mustache. "That is my good friend Roger Bloom. I should introduce you to him during the intermission," she said quietly, keeping her eyes on the stage.

The large man nodded, trying to remember where he had seen a red tie in the past. The conductor came onto the stage before he could make the distinction, and the crowd clapped politely as he raised his baton.

As the first chords were struck, Claire closed her eyes and began to lose her self to the enchanting music. Mycroft watched his companion's eyes go from warm to dazzled and he recognized the same reaction from his younger brother. The elder man knew that the pair were both violin players and great admirers of the composer, so their reaction was expected. But what he didn't expect was Claire to glow from the music; it seemed to Mycroft that all her worries and fears fell away to absorb and be enraptured by the music.

As he watched her, Mycroft felt his hand drifting from its previous position on his chair arm towards the right hand of Claire. As it grasped her hand he felt her arm rise as he pressed his lips on the top of her hand. Claire looked at him with her enraptured eyes and smiled sweetly at him before returning her gaze to the performance.

Watson noticed that his friend and his cousin had the same reaction when listening to music; they both let down their guard and became almost human in one fell swoop. He whispered something to his wife, who chuckled in noticing the mirrored reactions but failed to mention Mycroft's hand kiss.

As the symphony drew to the end of the third movement, Claire felt herself floating with the rising swells of the music as it triumphantly grew into a crescendo and as she opened her eyes Claire felt Mycroft's eyes upon her. She turned to him, basking in the sound of Beethoven's triumph. Their eyes connected at once, grey into blue, and it seemed forever - they stared at each other until the last triumphant chord sounded and Claire exhaled deeply as if she had been holding her breath.

The audience's applause was thunderous in the least; Claire could barely hear what her cousin was saying about how good the piece had been.

The curtain fell and Claire turned to the group.

"What a wonderful piece, it feels so nice to be here tonight. A concert always makes me feel better afterward," she said, her eyes still sparkling.

Watson nodded, "I was telling Mary how much you and Holmes acted alike during the performance."

Sherlock and Claire looked at him with judging looks hoping he would elaborate. The good doctor thankfully did. "You both seemed to lose yourselves to the melody, and the fact that Claire is glowing just from absorbing the music is a clear sign of how it affects you both," he said, motioning towards Claire who looked like she was the happiest woman in London at the moment.

"Thank you for the explanation, John. Now I'm going below to find my friend Roger and bring him up here to meet you all," she said standing up stiffly.

"I shall come with you, Miss Watson, if you don't mind," said Sherlock before his brother had time to voice his opinion.

Claire nodded her head in consent. "That would be wonderful, Mr. Holmes," she said, leaving the group with a comforting look before heading down the stairs.

She was not surprised her employer was escorting her to her friend; he wanted to observe and judge him before letting the man come to the box. Among the throng of the crowd, Claire managed to find Roger fairly quickly and at once hugged and gave him the two cheek kiss.

"Roger, how are you? It's been a few weeks since I last saw you," she said, beaming at her dear friend.

Roger clasped his hands together before answering, "I've been wonderful as always, you seem more energetic than I last saw you. But then again after that…" He stopped as Claire put a finger to her lips and motioned towards Sherlock.

"Roger, this is my employer, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Mr. Holmes, this is my good friend Mr. Roger Bloom."

Roger shook the detective's hand strongly. "It's such a pleasure to meet Claire's employer at last. I've read all of your chronicles and I must say it's an honor," he said pleasantly.

Holmes returned the handshake. "Thank you, it is nice to meet one of Miss Watson's friends at last," he replied, trying to be warm.

"So, where's the rest of the party?" Roger asked with a slight cough, looking over shoulders to see better.

Claire pointed upwards. "They are in a private box, and Mr. Holmes was kind enough to help me find you down here," she said linking her arms playfully in his.

Roger returned with a playful grin. "Well then, let's be off to the private box!" he said joyfully.

Sherlock watched the friends walk up, observing the level of friendship and how they met and so forth. Claire approached Watson, Mary, and Mycroft with a smile on her face.

"Everyone, this is my good friend Roger Bloom. Roger this is my cousin Dr. Watson, his wife Mary, and my other friend Mr. Mycroft Holmes," she said, gesturing to the appropriate people.

Everyone shook hands with him and then sat down to get a better look at this friend of Claire's. Watson was more surprised than anything to see that Claire in fact did have a friend in London and was anxious to ask him questions.

"So, when did you meet?" he asked as they all drank complimentary glasses of champagne.

Roger and Claire exchanged amused glances before answering. "I met dear Claire at an art gallery almost four years ago, when she was courting that William fellow. She and I happened to run into each other at a painting by a French impressionist at the same time and quickly became friends." Claire chuckled at the memory, making sure to stay friendly and aloof.

Holmes glanced at the thin man next to him and then turned his attention back to his assistant, "Miss Watson, tell me which painting was it that you both shared a delight in?" he asked, trying to find the truth as usual.

Claire shook her head. "I can't recall the painting's name except that it had sunflowers on it," she said, blinking hurriedly, trying to remember that far back.

"With everything that happened four years ago I'm not surprised you don't remember it," interjected Roger, trying to be supportive of his friend.

Mycroft nodded in agreement. "Quite. And besides, Sherlock, what significance would a painting have?" he asked, giving an annoyed glance at his younger brother.

The thinner of the two shook his head. "I would have thought you would have seen meaning behind my question, brother. It was to see if Miss Watson was telling the truth about where she met Roger Bloom, the accomplished dancer and appreciator of the arts."

Everyone including Roger made a surprised laugh. "Claire did tell me you were smart, Mr. Holmes, but I didn't expect you to find out my profession so soon." The thin man chuckled, looking at Claire's amused face.

Holmes held up a finger to symbolize his thought. "The first thing that made me think you were a dancer is that when you turn corners, you turn as if you're dancing the tango. Second piece of evidence was your manner of appearance - your feet are agile which constitutes great hours of practice and preparation. The last piece that suggested that you were a dancer was the cufflinks on your shirt," he said, pleased with himself as usual whenever he made the right deduction.

Roger nodded before showing everyone his cufflinks, which were gold dancers doing the waltz. Claire had to stop herself from mentioning how she was just a good of a dancer as Roger but she wanted to keep that secret safe until the group attended a ball. The sound of chimes filled the area, informing the audience that the orchestra would be returning soon. Roger rose to leave.

"It was great meeting you all at last; I hope to see you all again soon." He was about to leave when Claire rose as well.

"Let me walk you out, Roger," she said pleasantly before departing the box.

Holmes at once glanced at his brother, "You do not have to worry about competition for Miss Watson's heart, Mycroft - I think her friend is completely uninterested in courting her," he said coldly.

Mycroft glared at his younger brother. "Since when have I shown any interest in courting your assistant?" he asked boldly, unaware that Claire had returned and was now eavesdropping.

Sherlock gave his brother a slightly annoyed look. "Do you think that I would have missed your display earlier?"

Mycroft stayed surprised and tried not to lose his temper. "I have no idea what you're alluding to Sherlock, so stop trying to bait the hook and tell me," he said, giving his brother a dark look.

His brother gave him in turn a full-on glare with his grey eyes. "In the middle of the third movement, you kissed my assistant's hand. Normally I wouldn't have noticed but you're my brother - and to see such a thing coming from you is too much for my conscience to handle," he said sternly, unaware that his assistant was behind him glaring a hole into the back of his head.

"I think one thing had better be made clear, Mycroft. You are friends with my assistant; that I can live with. But do not insult my integrity by giving allusions of romance towards her!" He raised his voice at this point which made his brother turn angry.

"Don't you think I know what I'm doing? I didn't intend to do such a _romantic_ display, as you call it, but somehow it happened. And as far as I'm concerned things could have been worse," he said, catching sight of Claire behind his brother.

Sherlock was too involved with observing his brother that he failed to notice the lady standing behind him.

"I think that both of you need to stop yelling and making this a bigger thing then it already is!" issued a voice from behind the detective.

Holmes reeled around to see a very put-off Claire glaring at him. "How much have you heard?" he asked in an unapologetic manner.

Claire sighed. "Everything, are you disappointed that I heard your outburst? I knew you are slow to change and when Mycroft kissed my hand your rational mind couldn't see any point in it - that is why you are berating him and making _everyone_ uncomfortable," she stated pointedly.

Holmes opened his mouth to argue the point when Watson stepped in. "I quite agree with Claire on this, Holmes; your brother simply reacted to how she was reacting to the music."

Mary nodded with her husband. "It happens to us when we hear certain songs, I become a different, happier, and lighter woman. I saw Claire's reaction to the music; I've never seen a lady look that beautiful while listening to music before."

The group looked at Holmes with a look of amusement at the fact that he had very much overreacted. The detective took it all in before answering their glances.

"True, I did forget how the music of the night could change one's perception. My apologies, brother Mycroft," he simply stated before readjusting his vest.

Mycroft nodded. "All is forgiven Sherlock. I am sorry to cause your mind turmoil."

The group then turned in unison to once again be shaken and shaped by the music of the night.

AN: If anyone can figure out the red tie reference, the reviewer may get a small highlight in an upcoming chapter.


	18. Chapter 18

Changing Times

_**Changing Times**_

_September 1888_

Claire glanced outside the large window in Sherlock Holmes's flat, smiling slightly at the changing leaves and the cooler weather. Ever since the Beethoven concert in July, her employer had been watching her closely watching for any signs she might give towards her intentions towards his brother. Watson was trying to be helpful by encouraging her communications with Mycroft, but she still couldn't help but feel that Mycroft was losing interest.

She sighed and hung her head before opening a very large envelope. Her pupils grew large and she had to restrain from laughing. Holmes cocked an eyebrow at his amused assistant; ever since the concert she had been quiet but he could tell that she was beginning to doubt his brother.

"Remember the kidnapping case with William Gardner?" she asked him quietly, unaware that Watson had re-entered the room. Both men nodded in unison, allowing her to read on. "We've been invited to a New Year's Masquerade Ball at Miss Gertrude Steward's estate. Mr. Holmes, you cannot refuse this ball since it is their thank-you for solving such a case," she said in a mocking tone, as if daring him to refuse.

Watson clapped his hands together in glee. "I cannot wait until the occasion, and it will finally give me and Mary an excuse to dance again," he said happily before remembering Claire's past with William. "What about you, Claire? Do you think it wise you go after what went on between you two?"

His cousin simply rolled her eyes at him.

Holmes decided to speak at last. "I think your cousin has established enough times that she will be fine, and with so many others there it would be inconceivable for Mr. Gardner to single her out."

Claire nodded in approval. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

Both men noticed that Claire was acting like a rational human being, and normally with anyone else they wouldn't have cared - but coming from Claire, it meant she was probably hiding something.

"What are you hiding from us this time, Miss Watson?" Holmes asked, as if expecting her to be honest with him.

Claire gave a bored look. "I'm not hiding anything, Mr. Holmes. Am I not allowed to act like a normal person or must I always be the secretive secretary you've come to adore?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Watson thought he had seen all of the personalities of his cousin but he was evidently wrong. "Are you sure you're all right, Claire?" he asked just to be sure.

His cousin nodded, "I am perfectly fine, John or I might be if you stopped second-guessing my actions!"

Claire's quick tongue still carried a sense of supreme honesty and Watson felt good about this change in his cousin. Holmes too was beginning to feel a change in the air of the room and he had a sense that at long last his assistant had laid down the rest of her self-consciousness to allow them all to see the real her.

Claire had to stop smiling to realize how far she just went with deciding to stop caring what the world thought of her and her past. With that refreshing boost of confidence she began to write a letter to her good friend Roger. But before she did, the secretary looked at her employer.

"Do you think if it's all right if I invite my friend Roger along? He loves these sorts of gatherings and I know both of you would benefit from getting to know him," she said hoping they would agree.

Watson looked confused. "I thought you would want Mycroft to escort you?"

It was Holmes's and Claire's turn to raise their brows. "I don't know if Mycroft will want to escort me, but even if he does I'm still inviting Roger; he's not going as my escort but as my friend." Claire shook her head with an amused smile at Watson's confused appearance. "Roger is a bachelor for life like Mr. Holmes here, he will never marry and he has never mentioned to me any inclinations towards myself or any other lady so there is nothing to fear," she said to the pair of them.

Holmes nodded. "I thought he seemed the type, but I was unaware of his preference for certain company until now." He gave Claire a knowing look who in turn gave him the put-off look Watson regularly recognized.

"John, would you be so kind as to give me a moment alone with Mr. Holmes?" she asked politely, trying to bite her tongue.

Watson didn't like not being told something but from the look Claire was giving Holmes, he knew it was for the best. On the other side of the door, Claire was sitting across from Holmes.

"You are correct in your assumption for his preference, and I know it is frowned upon in most respects in society but I don't think having him with us in Kent will damage any of our reputations. Those closest to Roger like me know that he won't do anything rash when in mixed company. I beg you not to tell John, since we both know what his reaction will be."

Claire was speaking in a type of social code but she made sure Holmes knew every word she said. "Thank you once again, Mr. Holmes." She dipped her head in respect before reopening the door to let Watson back in.

Watson was still annoyed that he didn't know what they had done but from the unchanging face of Sherlock and Claire he decided to wait to ask them.

"Stop hoping, John; you may never learn the secret I've given Mr. Holmes. But then again, I've been wrong before," Claire said to him before ringing for Mrs. Hudson.

The elderly woman was happy to go put in the letter in the post for she knew that the nice young lady was expecting someone. Claire sat back down at the desk and began to read the untouched pile of letters from past clients and fans of the detective.

Mr. Mycroft Holmes looked at his watch, glad to see that he was on time for his weekly visit with his good friend Miss Claire Watson. He wasn't really sure how he felt about her - he certainly liked the young lady but there was something about her he wasn't really sure of. Mycroft didn't like the fact that she was still secretive with others after all this time and she still seemed unwilling to let go of the past.

Mycroft had his share of friendship with women, most of them lead to unfulfilling romances and he left them feeling cold and bitter like his younger brother. But with Claire there was something different about her, she had worked for the government and did so many thing that he had originally thought impossible, that Mycroft couldn't help but be amazed at her accomplishments.

The cab stopping made his thoughts float away as he ascended the stairs to his brother's flat. Claire saw the grey head of Mycroft through her window and had to suppress a grin and the wanting to spring on him the moment he set foot in the door. Holmes heard the sound of his brother greeting Mrs. Hudson and turned to get a better view of him.

Mycroft entered, oddly enough, with a bouquet of flowers, which made Claire blush a light pink as she rose from her chair. Everyone exchanged bows of greeting, and then sat back down except for Claire who remained standing.

"Brother, is my sitting room so destitute that you had to bring flowers to make it look approachable?" Holmes asked trying to see if Claire would look deflated at all by his comment.

Mycroft shook his head, "I do not think flowers alone could make _this_ place approachable. These are for Miss Watson's desk, so she will have something else to look at besides the view."

Claire took the nice bunch of lilies and baby's breath. "Thank you, Mycroft, these are wonderful!" she said, smiling before setting them in a vase on her desk.

Holmes immediately lit a pipe and watched the two interact. Watson unintentionally decided to kill their moment by mentioning the ball.

"So, Mycroft, I think you would like to know that we have all been invited to a New Year's Masquerade by Mr. Gardner's fiancée. Claire was hoping you would agree to…" He was stopped by Claire glaring at him as if silently trying to get him to shut his mouth.

Mycroft glanced at the invitation and nodded, "It seems we cannot say no to this one, Sherlock. I will go if Miss Watson is agreeable enough to allow me to escort her?" he said politely, trying not to blush to give his brother any indication on how he was feeling.

Claire smiled. "I would be honored, Mr. Holmes," she said with a bow of head. "My friend Roger is coming along, if you don't mind. Both your brother and the good Doctor think he would be a welcome addition to the party. What do you think?"

Mycroft shrugged and nodded his approval to the arrangement.

The young lady called for tea in one flowing moment before sitting across from Watson and the two Holmeses. Holmes finally spoke for the first time since his brother had come in.

"Let us hope your dancing has gotten better, brother, since my assistant seems the type who likes to dance."

Mycroft turned a light shade of pink, "I think my dancing skills are still usable and if not I could always force you to dance with her in my stead since you are the better one of the two of us."

Holmes glared at him while Claire giggled slightly. "That is true, but I doubt that Miss Watson would want to."

The two men looked at Claire for a response only to have her smiling at them both. "I do love to dance, I suspect it runs in the family. As for whom I would rather dance with it would have to be Mr. Mycroft; since he is my escort I will feel more compelled to dance with him," she said rationally. "Although, in the unlikely event Mr. Holmes asks me to dance I would most likely dance with him as well." Claire added with a hint of another smile, causing her employer to scowl once again.

The tea arrived and the four sat in comfortable silence except for a few words about the cool weather and good flow of cases. Watson then spoke aloud to the group. "It's nice to see the three of you are getting along at long last."

Three pairs of eyebrows raised in unison to the Doctor's observation.

"What did you expect, Mr. Holmes to still be objecting to the friendship? I think he's setting himself up for an inevitable break-off between me and his brother," Claire said, trying to hide her amusement in observing the lanky detective.

Holmes looked at her oddly, "You are getting better at detecting my moods, and you are right by the way. So far, your relationship with my brother has progressed at a steady pace but now you've come to a slow standstill and you aren't sure what to do."

Claire nodded, "True, since my last relationship with a man was five years ago I have to admit I am a bit rusty at this," she said, giving a reassuring look to Mycroft.

Watson felt bad for introducing an awkward subject and squirmed in his seat while Mycroft continued to boil in his position.

"You are making it sound like we're courting, Sherlock! When you know very well that we are just good friends," Mycroft said scoldingly.

Watson nodded in Mycroft's direction, "I don't know why Holmes is thinking you two have stronger feelings then you are letting on, but maybe he's trying to prove something," he mused out loud.

Claire nodded in agreement, "I think he's trying to prove that his brother won't ever change completely, which is the truth, but he also wants to prove to me that I can't take his brother's personality in stride." She tilted her head to get a better view of her employer only to be disappointed when he stayed silent.

Mycroft couldn't stand a battle of wits at the present so he decided instead of admitting his stronger feelings to go back to work.

"Thank you for the tea, Sherlock, your company is always illuminating," he said dryly. He rose to go and Claire rose as well.

"At least let me take you to the door, Mycroft, I want you to have a copy of the invitation," she said walking until she was beside him.

Holmes stood, "You're welcome, dear brother, feel free to keep calling on my assistant - she has barely any work to do anyway," he said characteristically unsociably.

Claire rolled her eyes at his words before letting Mycroft hook his arm in hers and walk down the stairs.

"I shall see you soon then?" she asked him when they reached the door.

Mycroft only nodded and drew up her bare right hand and kissed it before departing.

Watson peeked out the crack in the door only to be asked for by Holmes.

"Watson, you won't miss anything they do, as it probably has something to do with discussing foreign policy with India again," he said in a flat, bored tone.

Watson shook his head. "I think you underestimate them both, I think we may have a budding romance if there's any more hope for them," he said nodding in the direction of the door.

Holmes only shrugged, "Well, we do live in changing times - who knows, I may be proven wrong. But I am never wrong, so you may hope all you want, Watson; I am going to stick to the facts."

Watson gave a smirk towards his doubtful friend as he watched the two friends bid farewell.


	19. Chapter 19

The Masquerade

_**The Masquerade**_

_December 31, 1888_

Jolly Watson could not contain his giddiness; he was finally going to have the chance to see his cousin along with Holmes and his brother Mycroft. He knew that Claire had been secretly looking forward to the ball ever since she had opened the invitation. Ever since that fall day, he had seen less and less of his cousin since his practice was keeping him away from the mysterious affairs at Baker Street.

The good doctor remembered on his few visits with Holmes that the detective was annoyed at the fact that one day Claire was unable to come to work because she had a sprained ankle. Mary Watson watched her husband bustle about their comfortable room in a hotel near the estate, smoothing his coattails and readjusting his red and gold mask. So as any good wife would do, she tried to calm him down.

"Please stop overreacting, John, it's only seven o'clock and you told everyone to meet here at half past the hour."

The doctor nodded as he looked outside at the whistling wind and chilly air.

Claire Watson was very excited as well, she smoothed down the light lavender and black gown made of silk and lace that she had acquired for this occasion. For once her wispy hair was behaving itself to be made into a large bun with a few curls tumbling down. Her dark blue eyes sparkled as she put on her violet and gold mask, looking one last time at her reflection before moving to the hallway where she was to meet her escort, Mycroft.

"Damn it all, Sherlock! I can't see in this thing!" miffed Mycroft as he struggled to see out of his very dapper gold and scarlet mask.

Holmes sighed, "That's because you have it upside down, brother mine," he said glumly, readjusting his brother's mask.

The detective did not want to go in the least but Miss Watson had practically dragged him into going.

The detective brushed some dust off his perfect suit and put on his own mask which consisted of gold framing and a music score hand painted onto it. He shook his head at his brother before departing to the Watsons room to converse with Watson. The doctor was only too happy to see his dear friend.

"Holmes, old man, so good to see you so soon, please sit down," he said eagerly, trying to keep down his excitement.

Holmes gave Watson a very put-off glance as he poured his first drink of the evening.

"Why are we waiting in your room, Watson? It seems to me that we'd get a better view if we went downstairs to wait for the oddest couple in London," he said with a slight smirk.

The doctor gave a sarcastic laugh at his friend's joke, "I suppose we could go down to the lobby and wait, but once we do you'll probably complain of the wait and march back up the stairs."

This made his wife Mary giggle in her cat mask as she took her husband's arm and the pair descended the stairway. As the three sat, Holmes caught sight of Claire's old friend Roger, who to his surprise was accompanying a young lady who looked a little like him in appearance. The young man spotted them and bowed before addressing the young lady next to him.

"Everyone, this is my niece Jane; her mother told me that she needed something to do for the holidays and so here she is."

Jane curtsied gracefully. "This is my first masquerade and I hope everything goes well. I've heard so much about you all from my uncle and his dear friend Claire Watson."

The group made light conversation when Holmes noticed the sound of his brother's voice and Claire's accompanying it.

"Here they come…" he began to say blandly before turning his face to view them coming down the stairs.

Claire looked out over the top of the stairs to see everyone in their party looking up at her and Mycroft, who was trying not turn red from embarrassment.

"Stop fidgeting, Mycroft, you are going to make me fall if you keep stepping on my gown," Claire whispered at him in her school-tutor tone.

Mycroft mumbled an apology before heading down the opposite staircase to wait for her at the bottom. Claire took a deep breath and began to step down the red velvet covered stairs, her gown becoming more visible with every step. Finally she reached the bottom of the stairs to see that Holmes's and the entire party's mouths were hanging open in awe of her apparent beauty.

Roger was the first one to speak. "Claire Watson, I must say you look like royalty in that gown, wouldn't you say so Jane?" he asked his niece.

The young lady nodded before curtsying for Claire. "It's so nice to finally meet you at last, Miss. Watson, Roger has told me everything about you and your friends here," she said, delighted to meet the older woman.

Mycroft was amused to see that his indifferent brother was showing some emotion that had nothing to do with his detective work.

"So nice to see you surprised, Sherlock, let us hope it is not the last time we see you look this way," he said with a light chuckle that made his younger brother give him a frozen glare.

"I am _never_ surprised, brother - I was only taken aback by Miss Watson's choice of wardrobe, nothing else," he said in a bored tone.

Claire rolled her eyes at him, "Well let's be off to the ball before dear Mr. Holmes gets even more wooden," she said, her eyes dancing.

The group nodded, and each escort offered his partner his arm and led them to the carriage provided by the hotel.

Claire took the time to look outside the carriage to see the black night and little stars above. Mycroft was glad that Claire wasn't smothering him with affection; he was too busy trying to figure out why he was feeling so anxious when he talked to her or was even around her. This behavior was unlike any of the other friendships he had with women, but he was smart enough to know what those kinds of feelings meant.

The older man cursed himself silently that he had done what he didn't want to; he had fallen slowly in love with his brother's assistant. And the worse part was that he knew that Claire had an inkling of how he was feeling. The young lady was acknowledging that against her best efforts to stay frigid and cold that she was falling in love with Mycroft Holmes. The odds were somewhat in her favor, with their friendship and her cousin's wish to make her happy; but the biggest obstacle was her employer Holmes. He had resisted the idea of friendship for so long that she was afraid what he would do if he found out their romance.

Everyone else didn't seem as vexed about possible romance and Watson was too excited to notice how nervous Claire and Mycroft seemed. As for Holmes, he noticed that the pair didn't look as promising as in the hotel but his observance skill only thought it was nerves about dancing or something of that sort. He was only looking forward to talking with Sir. Gerald Steward, Miss. Gertrude's father, since the man was known for his stimulating conversations about the arts and criminal minds.

The mansion that the Stewards resided in came into view and made all the women gasp in delight. The place had torches everywhere, showing how large the estate was and how grand it all looked. Footmen directed the flow of masked dancers and showed the carriage towards the east end of the estate. Claire's mind stopped dwelling on her heart's desires as the door opened, and she let Mycroft help her out of the coach. As she encircled her hand around Mycroft's arm she felt a sense of formality as they walked in rhythm to the sounds of the other dancers behind and in front of them.

Holmes hated having to stay with the group but since everyone was so excited there was a huge weight of silence besides the sound of deep breathing or a giggle from Roger's niece. It seemed hours until they were shown into the dance hall where all the guests had gathered and the orchestra was playing a simple jig.

Holmes used the crowd to his advantage and began at once to find his way to Miss Steward's father, who was near the orchestra with everyone else who was hosting the ball. He smelled Claire's perfume before he could introduce himself, and had to hold back a repulsed sneer. Claire curtsied in front of Miss Gardner, well aware that William could not recognize her.

Watson decided to announce the group, "Good evening, I'm Dr. Watson, this is my wife Mary Watson, my cousin Claire Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, his brother Mycroft Holmes, and Mr. Roger Bloom with his niece Jane Potter."

Everyone curtsied and bowed as Watson spoke their names. Holmes noticed that Claire's eyes twinkled in smugness when he saw William bite his lip to stop himself from dropping his jaw.

The young lady dressed in light blue taffeta and lace smiled as she curtsied, "It's such a pleasure to see you all again. I don't know how to thank you for finding my fiancé, Mr. Holmes, but I hope this ball will help some," she said, giving a warm glance to William who returned it.

The detective bowed stiffly, "Thank you, Miss Steward, it was the least I could was to find your fiancé. I am glad both of you are unharmed," he said placidly, at least trying to be polite.

Claire was too busy looking at other dancers and looking anywhere besides into her old lover's eyes. Mr. Gardner's father Basil was not present, giving Claire some ease, glad that he wouldn't bring up her past with his son. Claire was trying to keep calm and collected as the group moved from greeting the hosts towards an empty table.

Once they sat, the Watsons went out to dance as did Roger, who practically sprung at the chance with his niece. Claire was left with only poor Mycroft since Sherlock had disappeared to go talk with Sir Steward about a few interests of his. Mycroft glanced at the lovely young lady seated beside him, he was counting his lucky stars he wasn't stuffing his face to try and get rid of the nerves he was getting. The lively song ended and the Watsons came back red-faced and laughing at the experience of dancing in such a large group.

Claire heard the start of a waltz and her eyes instantly brightened, before she could speak Mycroft was beside her with him arm outreached to hers.

"Shall we dance?" he asked, even more surprised at his courage than before.

Claire nodded as she let her friend lead her to the dance floor. The other waltzing couples prepared themselves as the first chords were struck, and immediately Claire and Mycroft glided across the floor, behaving as one being - each spin was in perfect timing to the beat which made the Watsons gasp in surprise.

Roger smiled broadly, "I take it you've never seen Claire dance. Although she wouldn't like me to tell you this, she is one of the best dancers I know," he said, keeping an eye on his good friend.

The doctor nodded, and remembered how Holmes had mentioned that Claire had called in sick because she had sprained her ankle.

"Tell me, Roger, was it dancing that caused her sprained ankle?" he asked, hoping Holmes was around to tell him he did an admirable job of deduction.

The professional dancer nodded, "It was, but not _this_ dance. It was another one that I learned in my visit to Argentina a few months ago," he said with a secretive look about him.

Watson knew there was more to be found behind his cousin's friend's statement but his mind seemed more captivated at the odd couple of Mycroft and Claire dancing across the floor.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Unexpected Romance**_

The waltz ended too soon for Claire, who felt as if she could dance with Mycroft forever, as he escorted her back towards their party who were applauding their combined effort. Mycroft nodded simply in thanks before heading to the open bar for a much deserved drink. Somehow unexpectedly, his brother Sherlock appeared beside him.

"Well done, brother. I didn't think you could keep up with Miss Watson but I was wrong. Tell me, was it everything you deduced when you met the young lady? I think not, since your observation skills are being blinded for your attraction to her," he said very boldly.

This stunned his older brother who was very put off by his brother. "Sherlock, how dare you intrude upon my mannerisms with your assistant! You have said it yourself that it was impossible for a man such as myself to even think of your assistant that way," he said gruffly.

Claire wasn't having an ideal time either since she had sat down; since the oily William Gardner had spotted her, he was heading her way and she had to grin and bear it.

"Good evening, Mr. Gardner, thank you for inviting us to your party." Claire's smile was tight, and her eyes were hopelessly searching for someone from her party to dance with. She saw her cousin dancing with Mary, and Mycroft Holmes was talking with a stranger. William took her gloved hand and kissed it.

"It was no trouble Miss. Watson; it was the least we could do for rescuing me." His smile gleamed at her. "Now, would you do the honor of dancing with me?" William extended his hand to lead her to the dance floor. Claire gulped; she had to say yes, etiquette demanded it. She nodded and let him lead her where a waltz was about to start. She felt the eyes of her cousin boring into the back of her skull as they took up positions.

"So, Miss. Watson, how have you been since that fateful day in Mr. Holmes's office?" William sneered into her ear. Claire snorted at this but continued to pretend she was enjoying herself.

"I am fine Mr. Gardner, a lot better than when I first set eyes on you." Claire flashed another smile to those around her. William chuckled as he spun her around with ease.

"So, should I be congratulating you? I hear you have found a new desire." William nodded over to where Mycroft was partaking in the punch.

Claire although she could not deny she enjoyed Mycroft's company, she had no intention of forming anything beyond friendship with the man. "I am sorry to disappoint you Mr. Gardner; I have no new beau in my life." Claire's heart seemed to disagree with this statement. But, she knew in her heart that the two of them would never be more than friends. She only hoped Mycroft echoed this sentiment.

William's eyebrows rose substantially as they entered the last few moves, "It seems what I saw at the office was false then." William's oily demeanor had shifted into concern. "I thought there was a connection between you, but I guess I am wrong." He smiled once more before bowing to end the dance.

Claire stood up straight and looked him square in the eye, "What you witnessed at the office was not a romantic connection, Mr. Holmes was only concerned that I would hit or maim you." She curtsied and then swiftly returned to where her good friend Rodger stood. They exchanged glances before Doctor Watson came up to them. His face was a little flushed from dancing and his wife Mary seemed to echo this sense of joy.

"I caught a glimpse of you dancing with Mr. Gardner, Claire. How was it?" John Watson's tone was concerned as well.

Claire shrugged, "It went well enough, he was more of a gentleman than I expected. But, we are in a public setting, so he might just want to keep up appearances." Claire seemed alright and her cousin didn't press. The rest of their party returned and they watched a few dances, Claire could tell that Mycroft was itching to talk to her about something. Instead of waiting until the end of the dance, she decided to do this now. "Mr. Mycroft Holmes, would you please do me the honor of walking with me outside?" Claire was resolute on this.

The older man nodded and led her outside where it had begun to snow, he had been hiding his emotions well, or so he thought. The cold air gave him the push he needed to speak; "Miss. Watson, over the time I have known you I have come to enjoy your company. Your wonderful cousin Dr. Watson seems to believe that my feelings towards you are more than those of friendship. I do not wish to hurt you Miss. Watson, which is why this is so hard for me..." Claire cut him off, politely as possible.

"Mr. Holmes you do not have to worry about hurting my heart, I do have feelings for you but, they have always been ones of friendship. I think the reason we are being forced to reexamine them is everyone's perception of us." Her heart remained still; it was not broken in any sense. Mycroft Holmes breathed a sigh of relief and kissed her on the forehead.

They returned indoors and explained the situation to the party. Dr. Watson slapped a hand on his forehead, "I must apologize for my part in this, and trying to make you two get together. But, you must realize my actions were not unprovoked." The good Doctor took a hearty sip of brandy and sat down. His cousin patted his shoulder in return.

"Don't tear yourself up about it John, the evidence of my emotional connection with Mr. Mycroft Holmes was circumstantial, and nothing more. Also, Mr. Holmes is too set in his routine to be interested romantically in me." They all nodded at this, it was true that Mycroft was a man of habit that didn't include wooing women. There came a cough from Sherlock, which caused them to turn to see the man raising a glass of wine to them.

"See Watson, I told you they would only be friends in the end. Miss. Watson is far too hard-hearted to let another man into her life and my brother as stated before is not the type of man to run after a young woman." Sherlock drank the wine and placed it on the table. "But, I do not see this as a defeat for anyone, Mycroft gets to return to his routine and I get my secretary back in one whole piece." Sherlock gave Claire a hearty handshake, which she returned. As the clock began to chime midnight, Claire could not help but celebrate with more vigor. She had a job with her former gang member Sherlock and was able to come back into her Cousin John's life. Plus, she helped solve cases and even met a good friend on the way. This coming year was looking up and Claire couldn't wait for it to start.


	21. Chapter 21

Aftermath

After the New Year's ball, as Mr. Holmes had predicted everything went back to normal. I still wrote Mycroft from time to time, but our letters grew less frequent over the coming weeks. John was worried as always that I had lied to myself and that I really was in love with Mycroft. I did all in my power to convince him that I did not have any feelings of that sort for him. He finally let it drop and I was able to focus on my work and be able to live my new life. But, something was off. Mr. Holmes had told everyone I was too hard-hearted to let another man into my life. I thought I had improved such much after William's treachery. I must have been sending off an air of confusion, because one day, Mr. Holmes decided to interrupt my thoughts.

"Whatever has you so preoccupied that you haven't read the mail yet? Please divulge Miss. Watson." Mr. Holmes's voice was quiet and calm. I blinked and turned towards where he was sitting and smoking.

"Do I really have to tell you, Mr. Holmes? Aren't you just going to deduce what I am thinking by the state of blouse?" I asked him undaunted with whatever conclusion he would draw. My employer stood up and peered at me with his green eyes narrowed.

"Well, I was trying to be sociable towards you Miss. Watson. I shall deduce your thoughts but not by your clothing." Mr. Holmes chewed upon his pipe stem as he circled me. I pretended to be fearless of what he might observe. My hands began to tremble slightly in anticipation but, I hid them in my lap. Finally, he stood in front of me; his air of confidence was more apparent then normal. "Miss. Watson, I can tell you are thinking about something that happened recently. Simply because, if had been from the past you would have mentioned it." He smirked as I nodded. He then began to pace, confidant he would find me out. "From the bite marks on your fingernails, I can tell you have been nervous about this. Also, the fact that you waited to drift off in thought after the Doctor left, means you don't wish him to know." He looked at my eyes for another clue. I forgotten how clever he was and conceded another nod.

Mr. Holmes then clapped his hands together and with a smirk he locked eyes with me. "Then it must have been about something I said to you. And since most of my interactions with you have been civil, it must have been during the ball." Mr. Holmes's eyes were wide as I nodded with a smirk of my own.

"Very good, Mr. Holmes, it was when you said I was too hard hearted to let another man into my life." My tone was a bit forward but, I had to let the man know. He seemed surprised by my tone and most taken aback by the subject.

"I am sorry that part of my speech is all you remember. But, since I have been somewhat involved in your life it seemed a logical conclusion of mine. You had your heart broken by Jack when he died and William Gardner I bet only got to see a sliver of your heart, before he moved on." Mr. Holmes's tone was so soulless and monotone, it frightened me a little. "So, I knew that you wouldn't let my brother come so close, you don't take romance very lightly Miss. Watson. Which is a good thing in my opinion; women are too carefree these days." Mr. Holmes added a bit of a compliment towards me, which only made me roll my eyes.

"Thank you for your kindness Mr. Holmes, but I am sure not everyone would share that opinion." My brain thankfully stopped buzzing about why I was so cautious when it came to letting love in. He was right about my two previous loves though, Jack was taken cruelly from me and it tore me apart. William on the other hand did not see as much since I decided to be careful about our courtship, and he ended up in the arms of another. But, something had changed in my resolute mind and in my heart. Since severing things with William four years ago, I had been content with being alone. But, now that I had begun to form bonds of friendship and the return of family, my heart wanted something to fill it and that something I couldn't fathom. I shook my head of this desire to return to work; Mr. Holmes went back to his chair, with the same long stride. My eyes followed his retreating form, my mind began to wonder, what if I became friends with this man once more? What would happen, now that we both are ourselves instead of playing a part?

My heart began to flutter at the thought, which made my mind consumed with questions. I knew that Mr. Holmes and I shared some traits but, neither of them was compatible with love in the mix. That would be unexpected romance indeed, if that were to ever transpire. I took a deep sigh and began reading the mail, shoving these feelings down in the process. Little did I know that in the coming year, that would all change.

The End


End file.
